


Honored Spirits

by Dracoduceus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (also some spoilers for the Jurassic Park novel I suppose), Awkward Conversations, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied Sexual Content, Implied minor/background character death, Noodle Dragons, Soba and Udon are little shits, Super serious noodles, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change, and now we're here, non-explicit discussion of bondage, references to the Jurassic Park novel, started out as a joke, the noodles mean well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-09 01:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 68,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12876894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: The continuation of a silly thought I had.What if instead of being the silly, childlike noodles everyone portrays them as, the Shimada spirits are serious and dignified? What if despite being thousands of years old, they honestly had no idea how humans (or omnics) worked?Let's just say that guilt isn't the only reason Hanzo carries around a gourd of sake...





	1. Names

From a [post and comment](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/168034296476/tevokkia-replied-to-your-post-a-silly-thought) on tumblr. 

* * *

 

**Hanzo.**

Sometimes he wondered if this was what it was like to have cats. It was probably worse because unlike cats, his spirits could talk and float through most physical obstacles if they so chose. He pretended to be asleep but they all knew it fooled no one.

**We know you are awake, Hanzo.**

**Hanzo.**

Sighing, Hanzo rolled on his back and stared up at the ceiling. Only one of them was in the room with him, perched on the desk in the corner. Its dewlap was partially extended and its mane was flared like a crown around its head, floating and twisting as if it were underwater. 

**They are giving us names.**

“It’s about time,” Hanzo said groggily. “I’m surprised you’re letting them.” 

 **We know who you are talking to,** the spirits pointed out. **Our thoughts are yours and your thoughts are ours. There was no need for names.**

“Did you wake me up for this?” He thought the spirit on the desk shrugged, or did the rough equivalent. 

 **Why do they call us noodles?** His other spirit asked and while Hanzo was a little concerned of its absence, he knew that there was nothing (much) that could hurt it. 

 **Noodles are for eating, Hanzo. We are not to be eaten. Do they not now this?** The spirit in the room with him bobbed its head, not unlike an agitated lizard. 

 **Noodles are for eating,**  the other spirit agreed.  **They are calling us noodles. Do they want to eat us?**

Sometimes -  _oftentimes_ , really - the spirits were wise beings that offered sage advice  ~~whether he wanted it or not~~. Other times, they reminded him of a flock of chatty birds all excited and chattering at once, especially if they didn’t understand some Silly Mortal Thing.

Which was, unfortunately, rather often. 

Especially with Overwatch.

“They don’t want to eat you,” Hanzo reassured them and held out his arms to the spirit on the desk. It regarded him as shrewdly as a spoiled house cat before deciding to take the comfort he offered and floated over. “I don’t know how to explain why they call you noodles, though.”

 **Okay,**  the absent spirit said.  **They are naming us noodles. It is uncomfortable. I am not a noodle.**

The scales of the spirit in his arms were cool as he shifted it to lay across his shoulders.  **We are not noodles. They are calling us noodles.**

“Stop fretting,” Hanzo told them, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. With one spirit across his shoulders, he couldn’t pull on a shirt but considering his typical combat gear, it probably wouldn’t be too strange for him to walk around the base completely shirtless. “It’s just…a nickname.”

 **Why are they giving us nicknames if they are giving us names?**  the absent spirit asked in what they probably thought was practicality. 

“Who is giving you names?” Hanzo asked as he exited his room with a yawn. “And where?”

 **The common room,**  both spirits said at once and he turned his feet in that direction. He had a few guesses as to who was naming them but allowed the spirits to chatter.  **Genji is here and so is Song Hana and The Cowboy.**

 **Jesse McCree,**  the one around his shoulders corrected.  **It is a very “cowboy” name. Like the ones in the Western movies.**

Hanzo was concerned because he wasn’t entirely certain if the spirit meant Western movies in general or the old American Westerns that McCree was so find of.

 **Either,**  the absent spirit said as he turned into the common room. It was tangled around Genji’s green spirit in front of where Hana, Genji, and McCree were sitting. 

Seeing him, Genji’s spirit flicked her ears forward.  **Greetings to you, Shimada Hanzo,**  it told him cheerfully.  **They are naming us. Genji says that noodles are nicknames but noodles are food and I do not understand. I am not food; I am not to be eaten.**

 **Noodles are nicknames,**  Hanzo’s dragons agreed. 

“ _Annyeong!”_ Hana said with a cheerful wave, oblivious to the exchange. 

“Did we wake you?” McCree asked with his eyes on his flask. 

 **McCree likes you,**  the spirit around Hanzo’s shoulders declared as it floated to its brethren. The cowboy shifted to let it pass.  **He would like to be your mate. We don’t understand why he will not speak to you of this but will speak to us.**

Hanzo sighed as Genji ineffectively hid a smile behind his hand. “Greetings,” he said to the humans in the room in lieu of answering the spirits. 

“We were just naming them,” Hana said, clearly unaware that this was why Hanzo had been summoned to the room. “We figured that they needed names because apparently you and Genji didn’t do your duties!” 

Genji shrugged unapologetically when Hanzo looked at him. “Fair enough,” Hanzo said gruffly. “Have you decided on something?” 

“Noodles,” Hana said excitedly. She pointed to Genji’s green dragon. “That’s Ramen.”

**I am not a noodle. I am not a ramen noodle. I am not to be eaten.**

Hana pointed to the tangle of Hanzo’s spirits. “The bigger one is Udon and the smaller one is Soba.”

**We are not noodles!**

**We are not to be eaten!**

**Shimada Hanzo, Genji, do they mean to eat us?**

**We are not to be eaten!**

Hanzo could feel the headache building and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 


	2. Jokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can also be called "in which DC takes seven pages to tell two jokes". 
> 
> Hanzo, Genji, and Zenyatta are just trying to meditate. 
> 
> The newly-named dragons discuss the strange concept of "humor" they encountered on the base. Specifically knock-knock jokes.

**Knock-knock.**

Hanzo sighed but disguised it as a deep breath as a part of his meditation. He doubted it fooled the spirits but they weren’t paying attention to him anyway.

**I do not understand.**

**Knock-knock.**

**What is “knock-knock”?**

Hanzo peeked open an eye and found that Genji and Zenyatta had both done the same, covertly watching the three spirit dragons bob their heads in the center of their meditation triangle. ( _It could hardly be a “circle”, brother,_ Genji had pointed out and Zenyatta had only encouraged the cyborg so Hanzo gave up.)

Udon bobbed its head not unlike an agitated lizard; Soba peered interestedly at Ramen who bobbed its head back. **It’s a joke.**

**A joke?**

**A joke. Knock-knock.**

Udon and Soba bobbed and wiggled their heads in a way that Hanzo knew meant they were confused. **Is that funny?** Udon asked.

**I don’t know,** Ramen replied.

“You’re missing a part of the joke,” Genji said out loud and the three spirits scrambled to look at him, blinking their luminous eyes and flicking their fat, forked tongues excitedly.

Zenyatta’s systems hummed quietly as he drifted closer to Hanzo. “They are telling jokes?” the omnic monk asked in an undertone.

“Trying to,” Hanzo replied just as quietly, having momentarily forgotten that he wasn’t privy to the booming voices of the spirit dragons. “They don’t understand most types of humor.”

**What is the joke?** Soba asked.

Ramen tilted its head from side to side as if considering that. **What part was missed?** It wanted to know, climbing into Genji’s lap and twining around his torso.

“Who told you the joke?” Genji asked.

**Song Hana,** Ramen said, bobbing its head as if agreeing with itself. Unlike Udon and Soba, it was much more active and prone to almost nervous fits of motion.

“What else did she say?” Genji pressed, running a lazy hand along the fluttering tufts of mane along the spine of his spirit dragon.

**Knock-knock.** Ramen said. **And then McCree asked who was there. But she was in front of him so I didn’t understand. What is “knock-knock”?**

“Do I want to know?” Zenyatta asked quietly and Hanzo mutely shook his head. The Shambali monk pressed a hand to the seam of his faceplate that mimicked a mouth – as if hiding a chuckle or a smile – and fell back into meditation, his orbs bobbing and orbiting around him with gentle notes.

“It is the sound one makes when they knock on a door,” Hanzo said, reluctantly joining in. Soba, who had always seemed the shyer of his two spirits, scrambled into his lap where it curled up like an enormous cat. It didn’t work out very well, considering from shoulder to hip Soba was nearly a meter long with another meter and a half for its tail and neck. Still it made an effort, which unfortunately looked rather ridiculous.

Wrapping his hands around the spirit, he shifted out of _seiza_ and let Soba attempt to curl up in the well made by his crossed legs. It still didn’t work but it was slightly less awkward.

**A knock on the door,** Udon echoed, a wrinkle on its scaly face appearing. Its long whiskers fluttered in an imaginary current. **But a “knock” on a door is an action, so how is it “knock-knock” instead of “I am knocking on your door”?**

Soba bobbed its head. **It’s a sound and a verb,** it corrected its sibling.

**I don’t like it,** Udon complained.

Genji hid a smile behind his hand and Ramen shook its head. “Okay,” he said agreeably. “Udon, I am knocking on your door.”

The spirit peered at Genji. **Are you speaking to me? Or are you speaking of noodles. Because I am not a noodle and I am not for eating.**

Soba and Ramen bobbed their heads though in amusement or agreement, none of them were really sure. **Udon-who-are-not-noodles,** Ramen said. **I am knocking on your door.**

Udon cocked its head to the side. **Why are you knocking on my door? I do not understand. You are welcome in my home and my room so why do you knock?**

“You ask ‘who is there’,” Genji told the spirits who all twisted their heads to look at him. “Because someone is knocking on your door and you want to know who it is.”

The spirits considered that. **But why not just open the door?** Soba wanted to know. **Then you will know who is at the door.**

Hanzo and Genji traded glances. “It’s just something that is done,” Genji said cautiously when it was clear that Hanzo wasn’t about to help him any more than he already had. Hanzo in turn combed his fingers through Soba’s mane. “And it’s a part of the joke. So, when someone tells you a joke and says ‘knock-knock,’ you say-”

**Who is there!** Ramen interrupted excitedly, bouncing a little in Genji’s lap. Udon _hmph_ ed and curled up on Hanzo’s other side. He obligingly ran his fingers along its crest and pressed gently along the curve of its jaw.

Hanzo wondered what kind of joke Genji would tell, given how difficult the lead-up had been. How long would it take for them to explain the punchline?

**Is that the joke?** Soba wondered, accidentally kicking Udon in the face with a flailing leg as it rearranged itself in Hanzo’s lap. He tried not to wince when its scales scratched him but it nosed his hand in apology anyway. **I don’t understand how that is funny.**

Absently, Hanzo scratched under Soba’s chin and it tipped its head back to let him. **Disgraceful,** Udon grumbled, nipping at Soba’s claw. Soba kicked it in the face and wiggled delightedly under Hanzo’s hands.

For all of Hanzo’s life his spirits had been dignified and aloof but having now spent time with Overwatch, with a more relaxed atmosphere, they were beginning to unwind a bit. Udon was still stuffy and crabby and none of them understood humor, sarcasm, or humans and omnics in general but it was moments like these, when Soba delicately leaned in to Hanzo’s gentle fingers or curled itself in his lap like a spoiled cat that Hanzo really realized how far they had come.

**It wasn’t a very funny joke,** Ramen observed.

“Well, it’s not done yet,” Genji explained. “There’s a punchline.”

The three spirits cocked their head. Well, two because Soba was too busy itching at the scales along its dewlap to react. **A line of punches?** Ramen guessed.

**Why are there lines of punches for a joke?** Udon asked with a huff. **Does that not hurt? Why would you hurt someone for a joke?**

“I’m amazed that you haven’t figured out jokes,” Hanzo murmured. “Especially growing up with Genji.”

Ramen tossed its head. **Genji didn’t make jokes like this,** it said reproachfully and then swiveled its head back to Genji. **But why are there lines of punches?**

“Well there is the lead-up for the joke,” Genji explained between chuckles. “That lays down the information needed to understand it. The punchline shows what is funny about the joke.”

The spirits considered that. Udon nipped again at Soba’s outstretched claws as it curled itself around Hanzo; Soba tossed its head in annoyance with its dewlap extended, though gravity worked against its threatening display.

Ramen huffed, settling down though it eyed Zenyatta’s lap thoughtfully. **So we are missing the rest of the joke?**

“Okay,” Genji said with a chuckle. “Let’s start over. Ramen, knock-knock.”

The spirit cocked its head to the side, looking up at its host. **Are you speaking to me?**

Soba wiggled in Hanzo’s lap. **Ramen-that-is-not-a-noodle!** It exclaimed. **Knock-knock!**

The green spirit wiggled around to look at Soba. **Who is at the door?**

Hanzo and Genji pressed hands to their mouths to hide smiles and swallow back giggles. The spirits all turned to Genji expectantly. **Now what?** Udon wanted to know gruffly. It was clear that it was getting tired of this silliness but it still rested its head on Hanzo’s knee, watching them all with slitted eyes.

“Cows go,” Genji said and all of the spirits’ heads swiveled around.

**Where is there a cow?** Soba asked, wiggling out of Hanzo’s lap to scramble up on his shoulders. When it could go no higher, it floated up a bit more. **I don’t see a cow nearby.**

“It’s a part of the joke,” Hanzo explained tiredly.

**Why is there a cow?** Ramen asked.

“It’s a part of the lead-up to the punchline,” Genji told them, far more patiently than Hanzo could have. “Let me demonstrate with Hanzo.”

Ramen bounced on his laps. **No! We won’t understand it!**

“We can explain afterwards,” Genji suggested.

“You just repeat what is said,” Hanzo tried. “Watch: Genji! Knock-knock.”

The spirits grumbled and Soba settled around Hanzo’s shoulders once more. “Who’s there?” Genji asked.

“Cows go.”

“’Cows go’ who?” The brothers both paused.

**So you don’t know who is at the door?** Udon asked. **You ask who is at the door and when they give their name you do not know them?**

Ramen huffed. **It doesn’t make sense.**

On his shoulders, Hanzo could feel Soba wobble as it bobbed its head. **It’s a ritual!** It declared with the air of having come to a great realization. **For the first response you always ask “who’s there”. Then, when they respond, you repeat their response and add “who”. Right?**

Udon huffed. **This is a complicated joke.**

Similarly, Ramen grumbled and scrambled up on Genji’s shoulders. He tugged its tail warningly before it could jump on the unsuspecting Zenyatta’s lap.

“You are welcome to join me, friend,” the omnic said, startling the brothers. He lowered the orbs gently rotating around him and Ramen wiggled its tail out of Genji’s hand before it launched itself into the omnic’s lap. There, it curled up the way Soba had done in Hanzo’s lap and graciously accepted the gentle petting from the Shambali monk. “I am curious to hear the rest of the joke.”

Ramen looked up at Zenyatta. **Master Zenyatta! I am knocking on your door.**

The monk glanced down at the spirit in his lap. “Hello, friend,” he said mildly as Ramen did a rather good impression of knocking.

“Ramen is starting the joke, Master,” Genji said. “Knock-knock.”

Ramen huffed. “Who’s there?” Zenyatta asked, gently rubbing the tips of his metallic fingers under the hinge of Ramen’s jaw. The spirit closed its eyes and tilted its head into the caress. On his shoulders, Hanzo felt the gentle brush of Soba’s dewlap as it bobbed its head. He obligingly reached up with the hand that wasn’t petting Udon’s mane to scratch at the thick scales along its spine.

“Cows go,” Genji said and not for the first time, Hanzo wondered how this would go. He doubted the spirits, despite their infinite wisdom, would understand such silly humor if the joke was what he thought it was.

Zenyatta perhaps thought something similar for he tilted his head to the side. In his lab, Ramen reached out and snagged on of his orbs with a claw and dragged it to their chest where they wrapped both arms around it. The remaining orbs adjusted their position to remain evenly-spaced and as much as a lizard-like dragon spirit could, Ramen looked put out.

“’Cows go’ who?” the monk asked.

With the most serious expression, Genji told him, “No, cows go ‘moo’, no ‘who’.”

Zenyatta’s disappointment was almost palpable, as was the spirits’. Hanzo swallowed back a bark of laughter but to his surprise, Udon’s head popped up. **Ah!** It said. **That was funny.** Then it clearly tried to smile or at least mimic human laughter but it didn’t work out: Udon bared its fearsome teeth, flared its whiskers out, and bent its head back as if its neck had snapped.

All in all, it was a rather disturbing sight.

That was actually what made Genji and Hanzo start laughing rather than the absurdity of the joke.

**I don’t like that joke,** Soba grumbled, bobbing its head again and floating off as Hanzo’s laughter shook it from its perch.

“That was a bad joke,” Zenyatta said with a staticky sigh of disappointment.

**It was,** Ramen agreed though it was clear that Zenyatta couldn’t hear it. **I don’t understand it.**

Udon bobbed its head which was back to its proper angle. **The “go” is not like the verb “to go”,** it explained, bobbing its head smugly. **The “go” means “to make a sound”. So when it is answered that “Cows go” is at the door, the response turns into “cows make the noise ‘who’”.**

The other two dragon spirits looked as disgusted as their scaly faces and unfamiliarity with facial expressions would allow. **I don’t like that joke,** Ramen complained.

**It’s too complicated,** Soba agreed.

They eventually shifted back into meditation, though the dragons continued to grumble about their dissatisfaction with the joke and jokes in general.

* * *

Late that night found Hanzo on “his” clifftop spot drinking with McCree.

The autumn nights were beginning to get chilly, so McCree hesitantly offered to share a corner of his signature serape. Though Hanzo made a show of complaining of how dirty and disgusting it was and how it smelled like whiskey and cigarillo smoke he still took the offered corner and leaned against McCree’s side. The nights were beginning to get cold and the serape was warm and the gunslinger was like a furnace, throwing off comfortable heat.

His only warning of something amiss came in a little shock along his tattooed arm, what could have been mistaken for a muscle spasm if Hanzo didn’t know better. He was just opening his mouth to warn McCree when one of his spirits – it was difficult to tell which, but he thought it was Soba – appeared over the edge of the cliff.

**I AM KNOCKING ON YOUR DOOR** , the dragon roared in Hanzo’s mind as McCree yelped in his ear and jerked back. Soba opened its mouth, baring fangs as long as their hands from the heel of their palms to the tips of their fingers. **I AM SORRY FOR DISTURBING YOU, BUT I FEEL THAT I MUST INFORM YOU THAT I WOULD LIKE TO TELL YOU A JOKE. I AM KNOCKING ON YOUR DOOR.**

“Thank you,” Hanzo gritted out as McCree pressed his gloved hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath after the scare. “Who’s there?”

McCree grunted. “What was that?” he asked as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“It’s telling us a joke,” Hanzo said flatly.

Soba bobbed its head excitedly, its dewlap extending proudly.  **WHAT DID THE OCEAN SAY TO THE BEACH?**

“What did the ocean say to the beach?” Hanzo translated for McCree. From the resigned look on his face, he knew the punchline already and was preparing himself to react in order to make Soba happy. “I don’t know,” Hanzo said to one of his spirits. “What  _did_  the ocean say to the beach?”

**NOTHING,** the spirit proclaimed in a voice like thunder. Hanzo tipped back his gourd and let the sake flow into his mouth.  **IT JUST WAVED.**

McCree snorted and laughed convincingly when Hanzo relayed the response to him. “Good one!” he told the ancient spirit who preened beneath his attention.

**I DON’T UNDERSTAND THE JOKE,**  Soba admitted.  **BUT THANK YOU FOR PRETENDING YOU LIKED IT.** Pushing itself off the edge of the cliff, it meandered away as if it walked on solid ground rather than the windy air of the seaside cliff.

“Don’t ask,” Hanzo muttered when McCree looked at him. 

He could hear Udon ask,  **DID YOU INTERRUPT THEIR DATE? THAT WAS VERY RUDE.**

**I KNOW,**  Soba replied.  **BUT THEIR CLOTHES ARE STILL ON SO I DIDN’T INTERRUPT ANYTHING IMPORTANT.**

Never before had he been so glad that McCree couldn’t hear the spirits. 

He murmured a ‘thank you’ and passed his gourd of sake to the gunslinger when he was offered the corner of his signature serape again.


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unsurprisingly, family is a touchy subject for the Shimadas...
> 
> ...just not necessarily for the reasons McCree had been expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that follow me [on tumblr](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com), you'll recognize this as one of the "bonus chapters" I posted. Clearly I decided to include this in the main arc here as I feel like it's starting to play more of a part in the story.

As with many problems or good stories, it started with alcohol. 

The Shimada spirits were draped over the backs of chairs - Udon over the back of Hanzo’s chair, Soba over the back of McCree’s, and Ramen draped over the couch behind Angela and Hana. If McCree could hear the dragons (which he regrettably couldn’t), he’d bet that Ramen was bragging about how it was getting twice as much attention as Udon and Soba. 

“Easy there, darlin’,” McCree told Soba, crossing a leg over his knee. He leaned back and placed his beer in the pocket his legs formed. With one hand he scratched at Soba’s chin, playing with the soft scales of its dewlap while he reached for Udon’s chin. The other dragon bobbed its head, agitated, at Ramen before submitting with ill grace for the affectionate scratches McCree was offering. 

It wasn’t because Hanzo was sitting next to him or because he wanted to wrap his arm around the archer; not at all. 

But perhaps Hanzo was a little on to him because he gave McCree a coquettish glance out of the corner of his dark eyes as he sipped his beer. 

He froze as Udon turned on its perch, lifting off the back of the chair as if gravity were optional for it, and turning around before settling once more. It rubbed its face (dare he say affectionately?) against McCree’s armored wrist and slitted its glowing eyes in bliss as it leaned into the caresses McCree offered. 

Soba nipped his flesh fingers, playfully indignant that its sibling was getting more attention. It slid into his lap so that its long flexible tail was wrapped like a scarf around McCree’s neck. Both legs hung off the sides of the chair, its body being too long to rest there otherwise. It bobbed its head smugly at Udon and Ramen. 

“They like you,” Hanzo said, his eyes going a little hazy and distracted in a way that McCree was fairly certain he wasn’t aware of. It was a tiny little tell that he had picked up as a sign that Hanzo was talking to his spirits. 

McCree couldn’t help the almost bashful smile as he paused to take a sip of his beer. “I’m glad,” he murmured back. He ducked his head a little more when Hanzo leaned ever so slightly into him so that his shoulder brushed against McCree’s shoulder and side. It was easy to misconstrue given how close everyone was packed into the common room and McCree didn’t want to allow himself too much hope. He emptied his beer and raised the empty bottle in the air. “‘Nother beer?” 

“Last I checked your legs were still working,” Ana said from across the room. She patted the pouch at her hips where she kept her darts. After a few... _ Incidents _ ...in the previous Overwatch and Blackwatch, she always carried a few. Apparently the “habit” carried over to the new version. “We can do something about that for you, though.” 

Soba shifted in his lap to cast a furious at Ana. “You know how you don’t disturb a sleeping cat?” McCree gestured to the spirit in his lap and then at Udon who had twisted to see what the disturbance was. It had already extended its dewlap and was beginning to bob and shake its head in annoyance. “I feel like these babies are worse.” 

“EASY!” Reinhardt boomed as he fished out a beer from the cooler at his feet. Carefully he made his way to Jesse and traded it for the empty bottle. Soba huffed (silently as even that McCree couldn’t hear but he  _ could _ feel the motion of its sides) and settled down again. Strangely enough, it ducked its head away from the hesitant hand Reinhardt offered and burrowed its snout under McCree’s serape. “Well, I know better than to argue,” the ex-Crusader with a booming laugh. 

“Thanks big guy,” McCree said as he lifted the bottle to take a sip. 

In another corner of the room, voices rose and they all looked in that direction. Tracer was standing on a table, drunkenly listing to the side. “Everyone?” she asked as if she didn’t already have everyone’s attention. “I just wanted to say...thank you for having my back out there.” She raised her beer to Hanzo - who had kept her from being cornered in the mission earlier that day - and then to the rest of the room. “You guys are...you’re more than just a team. You’re like my  _ family _ .” 

Only by virtue of being so close to him could McCree feel the tensing of Hanzo’s shoulders. The other tell, of course, were the dragons. Most telling was Soba as it was in his lap: it stiffened then twisted to pull its head out from beneath McCree’s serape. 

Mei, who had been very quietly sitting in the corner, looked up. Her little robot, Snowball, trilled curiously. “Yeah,” Hana said, a little unsteady herself. “We’re more than just a  _ team _ . Look at all the things we face in the field! Freaking fog monsters, purple snipers...you guys are my family away from home.” 

“Maybe that’s where we went wrong,” Angela murmured. “With the last Overwatch, were were just another military force - just another tool to be used. But now…” 

Winston, who had been silent until then, shifted. He couldn’t drink but he celebrated in his own way with a jar of peanut butter. “I already consider you guys my family,” he said, shyly pushing his glasses up with an enormous finger. “My team  _ and _ my family.” 

“Aww,” Tracer said and blinked to their current commander, wrapping her arms around his enormous neck. “Thanks, big guy.” 

From their corner, Snowball trilled again. “I only joined recently,” Mei said shyly when everyone glanced at the little robot and then at her. “But I can see how close you guys all are and...it feels...nice.” 

Reinhardt gave a deafening roar of laughter and Torbjorn yelled in surprise as he was knocked over by a wayward fist. “OF COURSE!” he roared. Softer but no less sincere, he said, “you are all my family. Our bonds are forged in the heat of battle; they transcend more than mere blood. I will fight beside you and  _ I will be your shield. _ ”

So ensued similar heartfelt, teary, drunken confessions that were no less sincere. On his lap, Soba shifted and thinking that the dragon was upset he hadn't been letting it, McCree put his beer down and scratched at the base of the dragon's horns. 

To his surprise, Soba tossed its head - he had never had the noodle turn down scritches, especially from him - and turned around in his lap so its snout was in his face. Whenever the spirits “spoke" there was a taste like lightning in the air, a brief burst of static though of course McCree couldn't hear them. The staticky sensation was strong now and from Hanzo’s wince it was probably because the spirit was shouting.

McCree wasn't quite drunk enough for these kinds of shenanigans and very carefully turned his head so he could gulp down his beer. He caught sight of Hanzo’s uncomfortable expression and gently shifted the arm over the back of his chair to rest over the archer’s shoulders. “Y’ don't gotta say it back,” he told the other man quietly as he took the beer away from his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Udon and Soba bob their heads. 

He was surprised at the expression he saw cross Hanzo's face. It was unsurprising that Hanzo was ambivalent but there was a surprising amount of hope…

...and a lot of fear.

At the risk of being bitten by Udon (or Hanzo), McCree wrapped his arm tighter around the archer’s big shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “What's wrong?” McCree asked as quietly as he dared.

Hanzo stiffened further and Soba nudged it's head into McCree's collarbone...or perhaps he stiffened  _ because _ of Soba’s actions. 

He stood up, knocking Udon off his perch and McCree's arm off his shoulders. At a gesture, the spirits dissolved and the tattoo on his arm flared brightly as they were summoned back. 

Unfortunately this light show drew the attention of the rest of the room. Hanzo froze under the scrutiny. “You aren't my family,” Hanzo informed them brusquely. Seeing the rest of the room staring at him,  he grunted and looked away. “None of you are.”

Everyone was silent as he left. McCree personally wasn't surprised at his words. He had been working away at the archer as his own personal project, trying to get the man to unwind a little, to embrace the team more. Despite his own initial misgivings of the man, he had seen the brokenness in Hanzo’s eyes before - most days and many nights in the mirror, in fact. Difference was that Hanzo didn’t have someone to get in his face (safely) about it so McCree bit the bullet so to speak and took up that role. 

It had taken a long time and more than a few bruises before Hanzo had begun to accept McCree’s presence. Genji himself had come to McCree to thank him for helping his brother in a way that neither Genji nor Zenyatta had been able to.

Still, Hanzo was distant and aloof. He showed his affection for the team in very subtle ways that were extremely difficult to trace back to him and would turn his equivalent of bashful if called out on it. Despite the progress made on such a mentally-scarred (and physically, McCree was sure and totally  _ didn’t _ wonder on the nights where his lonely and amorous thoughts got the better of him) man with emotional whiplash and PTSD, it wasn’t surprising that Hanzo wouldn’t consider any of them family. 

In fact, McCree was barely certain that he would even be considered a  _ friend _ to Hanzo, much less anything... _ more _ . McCree tried not to let it get to him and took another long swig of beer. 

Hanzo’s abrupt dismissal put a dampener on their celebration. Everyone turned to Genji who very quietly summoned Ramen back, to the loud protests of Hana who had been playing with the spirit and offering it scritches along its jaw. A moment before it dissolved away, McCree noticed how stiff and alert it had been sitting, its ears flipped toward Genji as it gave him an unusually intense stare. 

Not unlike how Soba had shoved its snout into McCree’s face with lightning in its eyes. McCree swallowed another mouthful of beer thoughtfully and said nothing. 

“Hanzo is right,” Genji said when everyone looked at him in askance. “You are not our family; you are not Shimada. With luck, you never will be.” 

And then the cyborg was gone, just as quickly as Hanzo had left. 

Eventually the party resumed but it took a while for everyone to recover from the abrupt dismissal of two of their teammates. By then, no one was sober enough (or looking in his corner) to notice that McCree had slipped out the door. 

 

* * *

“That was harsh,” Genji said as he slipped through the roof access. 

Hanzo’s tattoo flared as he released the spirit dragons to the physical world and Genji allowed Ramen out as well. The three of them bobbed their heads angrily at them before darting away in a swarming pack of glittering scales. Neither were surprised that they didn’t go very far, bobbing their heads and giving little hops of their forelegs near one of the catwalks. 

“Howdy,” McCree said as he ambled along. “And howdy to you three as well.” As soon as he was on solid ground they swarmed around him like a clowder of cats waiting to be fed. “Gimme a sec and I can give you some lovin’, darlin’s.” 

They darted away and McCree propped himself against a wall to let himself be swarmed by the dragons. 

“They want to know why you’re here,” Hanzo said a little harshly as he sat down in  _ seiza _ near a couple of covered crates. Making a face, he shifted into a cross-legged position that was more comfortable; old habits died hard, after all. 

(It felt like there was an echo on the wind.  **McCree, McCree, McCree, McCree** …he ignored it - it was most likely the alcohol and the gentle whisper of the waves and wind.)

McCree glanced at Hanzo and then at Genji with a disarming grin. “Just makin’ sure you’re alright,” he said easily. “I know things were gettin’ kinda…”

“Presumptuous,” Genji said with more bravado than he clearly felt. Even without his mask it was sometimes to read his expression, but McCree was fairly confident in the guilt he was reading. 

Ramen nudged his sternum with its snout,  _ hard _ , then rubbed its cheeks against his chest. His other hands were occupied with Soba and Udon but he tried to pet all three at once as well as he was able to. “Yeah,” McCree agreed. “But they’re all drunk and unlike men like us...they wear their hearts on their sleeve.” 

That got him ragged smiles - or their equivalent - from the brothers. Genji glanced at them with an unreadable expression (or, nearly unreadable, since McCree was fairly certain that the bastard looked  _ smug _ ) before excusing himself to find his master. Ramen left with him, though the spirit had clearly considered staying. Whatever Genji had said to it without words seemed to decide it and it scrambled after Genji, dissolving in a little flare of light. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them disappear like that,” McCree said off-handedly, moving his hands back to Hanzo’s dragons. Udon liked its nuchal crest scratched but Soba liked the harder scales along its jaws and nose rubbed with his knuckles and he tried to oblige both of them. 

Hanzo hummed, watching McCree and his dragons with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Don’t worry,” McCree continued. “I ain’t gonna make you talk to me.” He paused. “Or feel something for me that you don’t.” 

Something about that set the dragons off and they tossed their heads, snorting in an almost audible way. Udon nipped at McCree’s hand though he was gentle and when his fingers were trapped in its jaws, he didn’t feel the pain of its teeth clamping down. 

“It’s not that,” Hanzo said very quietly. 

McCree smiled, ignoring that Udon still had his fingers in his teeth. “You don’t  _ need _ to share, darin’,” he reminded the archer. If Udon bit down, it was fine, he supposed - he already lost one hand...what was another?

“No,” Hanzo agreed. “I never do with you but...I want to.”

It was hard not to smile like a fool at Hanzo and he was reasonably sure that he had succeeded. “Then I’m all ears,” he said when Hanzo paused. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Hanzo seemed to chew thoughtfully on his words. “In a very simple way...family means a tie to the dragons,” he said with a nod toward Soba and Udon, who hadn’t released his hand. The other spirit was bobbing its head and neck at Udon and McCree. The staticky sensation of their inaudible speech was back and McCree thought that they were arguing. “Family means…” he trailed off.

“Is that how you can hear Ramen?” McCree asked gently. “You can hear them but not control them?” 

“They are not really under our control,” Hanzo corrected quickly. “But...yes. I could hear our father’s dragons, as could our mother because we were all family.” 

McCree didn’t fall into the obvious pitfall of asking Hanzo more about their family. Instead he wiggled his fingers and though it seemed reluctant, Udon released his hand. “You’re afraid of what we might hear?” he asked, only a little teasingly. 

Much to his surprise, Hanzo turned bright red and looked away. “Yes,” he admitted. 

Grunting, McCree gently shooed the dragons off his lap and shifted to sit beside Hanzo. The dragons stayed where they were, bobbing their heads. Now the static was heavy in the air and there was a metallic taste as they stared very intensely. 

“Thanks for sharin’, Han,” McCree told the archer gently and nudged the man’s shoulder with his own. “For what it’s worth...I’m not afraid. But I trust you - on the field and off - to have my back. If it’s really as bad as you say, then...I’ll follow your lead. I won’t ask you for anything neither of us aren’t ready for.” 

Hanzo’s head snapped up and out of the corner of his eyes, McCree noted that the dragons stopped their excited motions, becoming as still as statues in lapis and turquoise. Hesitantly -  _ very _ hesitantly - Hanzo leaned further against McCree’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

McCree couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t take Hanzo’s hand because that was too forward of him and Hanzo probably didn’t feel the same way, but he did wrap his arm around the archer’s broad shoulders, trailing his serape with the motion. McCree offered Hanzo the flask of whiskey he had stopped by his room for after he left. 

With a smile that most probably thought him incapable of giving, Hanzo leaned into McCree’s half-embrace. Their fingers brushed as he reached for the flask. 

Just as silent as ever to McCree’s ears, the dragons bounded over and settled around the two of them as if to ward off the wind and chill of the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone who has left me comments and kudos. I very much enjoy seeing all of your thoughts on the story and it makes me feel much better about writing more for it. 
> 
> For more blurbs, "bonus chapters", sneak peeks, and the occasional recipe, feel free to visit me on tumblr at [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> ~DC


	4. (Thanksgiving) Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are more chickens than turkeys, talon-turkeys, and Ana does what mothers do best - embarrass their children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as silly as most of the chapters since having anyone explain Thanksgiving to the noodles would just be too much. But I like the idea of them not being sure about turkeys and chickens and WHY IS THAT SHAPED LIKE A HAND?

Udon bobbed its head. It was hard to tell how it saw and what kind of vision it had since it was a spirit that didn’t typically exist in the physical world, but more than once Angela wondered if it was near-sighted – that would explain the bobbing motion as it tried to bring the piece of paper in front of it into focus. In the end she decided that Udon was simply being difficult and the bobbing of its head was more of an expression (not unlike a facial expression) of what could possibly be annoyance.

(She refused to dwell on how the idea of interacting with a _spirit_ of all things became so commonplace that she ignored the laws of…well, _everything_ and just kind of shrugged it off. Such thoughts were for when the shadows grew too dark and the nights too long. Somehow Ramen seemed to know or perhaps sensed it for it would chase away the darkness with its gentle green glow enough that she could go to sleep.)

**That is not a turkey,** it sniffed.

Next to it, Soba bobbed and wiggled its head as well. **It’s not nearly as ugly,** it agreed. **It’s still pretty…hideous to look at. And turkeys aren’t made of…is that pasta?**

“Macaroni,” Genji said absently over his shoulder. “They were asking what it was,” he added when Ana made a curious noise.

Ana nodded and tapped the paper. It was stiff and slightly yellowed with age and a little uneven from the liquid of the glue soaking into the paper and contracting as it dried. A few pieces of the macaroni were missing and in a few places jagged pieces remained. “Macaroni art,” she told the spirits. All three flipped their ears toward her in interest. “Children do it.”

She watched in amusement as the spirits cocked their heads to the side almost in unison. **But it is not a turkey,** Ramen protested. **Why are you telling us that it is a turkey when it is made of macaroni?**

**Turkeys are not flat,** Soba said. **And these are very small. Why are they so small? Are they baby turkeys?**

From the sink, Hanzo sighed. “It’s just a piece of art,” he told the spirits.

“Fareeha did this when she was six,” Ana explained, guessing the vein of the spirits’ protests. “It’s just a fun little art project. Do you want to try?”

The spirits glanced at her. **WE ARE NOT CHILDREN!** Udon boomed.

At the same time, Soba said, **HOW DO YOU DO THIS?**

“Soba is intrigued,” Hanzo said dryly, taking a deep drink of his beer. There was no mistaking the bottle on the counter as his – the neck was smeared with blood. Angela had given up chiding him for it though she and Ana both made their displeasure known by clicking their teeth at him; predictably, Hanzo ignored them. “So is Ramen.”

Clearly sulking, Udon curled up around the decorative cornucopia like a radioactive snake. Its head rested at the top of the wicker decoration though, pointed toward the area that Ana was clearing to do a craft project for human children. Soba and Ramen bounced excitedly on the chair they shared.

“Hey,” McCree said, tugging Udon’s tail as he reached for another potato to peel. “No need to sulk, big guy.”

**I am not sulking,** Udon grumbled, wiggling its tail and the tuft at the end stubbornly. It flopped over the open sack of potatoes and McCree’s reaching arm.

Chuckling, McCree tugged – _gently_ so he didn’t get bitten – on the tail again before slipping his hand under it to get another potato. Udon snorted in an almost-audible way and flipped its tail away.

**Why is this holiday obsessed with turkeys?** Ramen wondered as Ana set out pieces of printer paper for them.

Soba snorted. **If it is obsessed with turkeys, then why are there so many** **_chickens_ ** **in here?**

Those that couldn’t hear the spirits looked up in surprise when both brothers started snickering. “Yeah, Soldier 76, McCree,” Genji teased with a wide grin. “If the holiday is obsessed with turkeys, then _why_ do we have _chickens?_ ” He punctuated the question with a _thwack_ of his blade that neatly took off the head of the chicken he was breaking down. “Much less… _whole_ chickens?”

Both brothers, competitive creatures that they were, had a pile of carcasses and a trash bag-lined bucket. There was something remarkable, disturbing, and (at least to McCree) surprisingly attractive about the speed in which the brothers (mostly Hanzo) broke down the whole chickens. His hands moved quickly, his knives flashed, and the chickens moved with strange speed through their stations.

But to their point, yes.

_Chickens_.

“Hey, don’t look at _me_ ,” McCree said though no one was. “It’s not _my_ fault 76 volunteered us to host Thanksgiving two days before it’s supposed to happen.”

**Such a dumb name,** Udon grumbled, flipping its tail like an agitated cat. It wasn’t clear if the dragon was speaking about Soldier 76, the soldier that was supposed to be dead, or the name of the holiday.

The old soldier twisted to glare at McCree. It wasn’t as effective given his full-face mask, but no one had the heart to tell him that. (Well, they _did_ but it was more amusing to let him think he was scarier than he actually was.) “ _You_ agreed that Christmas decorations shouldn’t be put up until _after_ Thanksgiving,” he pointed out.

“Put your paw there,” Ana told Soba, gesturing to the paper.

**I do not understand the point of this,** Ramen said, bobbing its head as it watched Ana trace the outline of Soba’s talons.

“I can do yours, Ramen,” Angela said, coming around to Ramen’s side.

Ramen bobbed its head and rubbed its head against her shoulder – careful of its horns – before moving placing its paw where she gestured. **This still doesn’t make sense,** it said, twisting its head on its neck to peer at the doctor as she traced its foot. **How does this become a turkey? Is this where turkeys come from?**

Oblivious to the incessant questions and chattering of the spirits McCree said, “I agreed, but I didn’t agree to _cook a Thanksgiving feast for everyone_.”

**That doesn’t answer why there are** **_chickens_ ** **and not turkeys,** Udon grumbled.

“They ran out of time to get a turkey,” Hanzo explained since clearly no one was about to. “So they could only get fresh chickens but perhaps that was for the best.” There was a muted _crunch_ as he neatly removed the head. He picked up a smaller blade and began scoring the tendons around the legs to remove those as well.

The dragons all twisted their head to look at him. Ana clicked her tongue disapprovingly as Soba moved its paw and gently moved the paper and the paw back into place for her to finish tracing the last of its talons. “All done,” she said. “You can remove your paw now.”

Excitedly, Soba obeyed and bobbed its head as it looked at the paper. **Is it a turkey? Is that what a turkey looks like?**

**No,** Udon said sourly. **It looks like an ugly chicken.**

Angela finished tracing Ramen’s talon and leaned back. “All done,” she told the dragon who bobbed its head excitedly at the paper in front of it. “Now we can decorate.”

**I thought you** **_eat_ ** **turkeys, you don’t decorate them,** Ramen said.

Udon bobbed its head in annoyance as Ana pulled out a few bottles of glue, old boxes of macaroni, beads, and other obscure craft items that Tracer had found with the decorations.

(It was easier to blame it all on Tracer, even though a good amount of the team had went with her into the forgotten storage rooms and found the old decorations from Overwatch’s heydays. Reinhardt was also a major culprit – the two of them had been the most excited about decorating and celebrating even the most obscure holiday.)

“I wonder how well this stuff kept,” Angela said absently as she pulled out a chair beside Ramen. It bobbed its head at her until she scratched between its shoulders. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

Udon watched with waning interest as the “turkeys” were colored in with various materials glued down to the tracing of a spirit’s talons. Instead it turned to watch McCree peel potatoes, bobbing its head with its dewlap extended.

“I know that look,” McCree said, shaking the peeler at it. “Don’t be startin’ nothing, now.” It seemed to grin though it lacked the malleable lips to do so; if he hadn’t been familiar with their “expressions”, McCree would have thought the gesture was threatening.

The dragon drifted up as if gravity had lost its hold on it and “swam” through the air toward McCree. It alighted on one of his shoulders, letting the rest of its body drape across the back of his chair. With a warm chuckle, McCree reached up with his free hand and tapped the tip of its blunt nose with a hand whitened by potato starch.

**That is disgusting,** Udon grumbled.

**You cannot taste or smell,** Soba grumbled back, twisting its head to shake its dewlap at the other dragon. **And you like the attention.**

Udon bared its teeth at Soba who replied in kind with a hiss. It wasn’t aggressive so everyone ignored it and soon enough Soba was distracted by Ana opening a jar of colorful beads. (Not that anyone really _could_ hear the hiss, but the motion was explanatory enough.)

**The cowboy would make a fine mate for Hanzo,** Ramen said, bobbing its head.

McCree knew something was up by the way Hanzo’s spine stiffened and Genji leaned over his cutting board with a wheeze. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

**You would make a good mate for Hanzo,** Udon told him. **We all approve.**

“Don’t worry about it,” Hanzo said stiffly.

Udon shifted out of the way as McCree reached for another potato to peel. As a reward, McCree scratched gently at Udon’s nuchal crest before resuming his appointed job. Dissatisfied, Udon slid into McCree’s lap, forcing him to adjust to make room for the spirit. It didn’t seem to mind the motion of McCree’s hands as he peeled the potatoes, letting its neck drape over the bend of his elbow and letting its hind legs dangle over the edge of the chair. From the stability of the spirit in his lap, McCree suspected that its hind claws were hooked over the strut of the chair to keep from slipping off.

“This is what my life’s come to,” McCree said with a laugh when he caught Angela and Ana looking at him with smiles. “I’m just a chair for a spirit.”

The kitchen fell silent save for the incessant chatter of the spirits and the times that Genji or Hanzo translated or answered their questions. There was much fanfare when Hanzo won the race of breaking down the chickens, much to Genji’s open distress.

(McCree could see the subtle signs of distress and the shaking in Hanzo’s arms when Ana commented that she had always thought _Genji_ to be the swordsman, not Hanzo and said nothing about it. If Hanzo sat a little closer to him and Udon than was typical afterwards, he didn’t comment on it save to nudge his elbow into Hanzo’s arm reassuringly. The conversation went on and no one commented - that he could hear - about their closeness.)

Hanzo cleaned his hands and joined McCree in peeling potatoes, starting on the sweet potatoes that McCree would later use to make some of the desserts. He nudged Hanzo’s knees with his own and they shared shy smiles before bending their heads to their tasks.

A while later Genji joined them and began chopping onions at the other end with his faceplate to protect him. It was quite a sight to see a ninja cyborg dressed down in a hoodie and sweatpants chopping onions and garlic so McCree took a quick picture. A moment later Udon shoved its snout into his phone and McCree obeyed the silent command, switching the camera around to take a selfie with him and the dragon.

That of course turned into taking pictures of and with the group in the kitchen, even the reluctant Soldier 76. He even had pictures of the dragons, Soba and Ramen holding their claw-turkeys in their jaws while Udon bobbed its head in disapproval in the background.

Just before dinner, when their artwork was completely dry, they hung all of the decorations up with the help of the dragons - it was easier than finding a ladder. Dinner itself was a loud and messy affair, unsurprising given the number of people that attended. They went around the table saying what they were thankful for despite everyone’s protests - _If we’re doing this_ , Soldier 76 had said, slamming a fist down on the table emphatically, _we’re doing it correctly_ \- and ate dinner with much teasing to McCree and Soldier 76 regarding the chicken-or-turkey debate.

Fareeha was mortified to find that Ana had hung up some of her childhood Thanksgiving art but they all cooed over the talon-turkeys (as they were beginning to call it) that Ramen and Soba had created. They all took a picture next to it and the proud dragons who bobbed their heads with their dewlaps extended.

The most adorable thing, everyone agreed, were the signatures at the bottom of the pages: Soba & Ana Amari, Ramen & Angela Zeigler. Since no one could agree on how old the spirits actually _were_ (time being a very human concept, apparently) they settled for adding “Thanksgiving” and the year.

After dinner the entire team chipped in to clean up, creating a long chain of people to do dishes, take out trash, clean up the dining room, or put food and chairs and extra tables away. Much to his surprise, the noodles did their best to assist as well though lacking hands that could easily grasp things, it was much slower going.

Late that night, wide awake from nightmares despite his exhaustion, McCree found a dim blue glow in the common room when he went to make himself a glass of water. “Hey bud,” he said quietly and the spirit swirled in midair before coming over to greet him. When it was in within range, he scratched its nuchal crest the way it liked and smiled when it bobbed its head happily.

“What’re you doing up so late?” he murmured to it as it draped itself around his shoulders almost shyly. It was Soba’s spot, after all - Udon typically didn’t use him for a perch but that day seemed to be a day of firsts for the dragon.

Udon bobbed its head and McCree thought he heard a voice but realized that it was probably just the whisper of the wind outside.

“Where’s Han and Soba?” he asked instead. “They awake?” Udon awkwardly shook its head “no”. “Still sleeping?” Udon confirmed this with a nod, an easier motion for its neck to make. “So what’re you doing up, silly?”

The dragon bobbed its head at him as if to say, **I am not silly**.

McCree smiled and rubbed its jaw fondly before it tossed its head again and drifted off. He followed it with his eyes as it drifted toward the wall where Soba and Ramen’s talon-turkeys hung. “You know,” McCree murmured. “It’s not too late to make one.”

Udon twisted to look at him with an almost incredulous look on its scaly face. From its not-quite expression, he hit the nail right on the head. Finishing his water, he put his glass in the sink and went to the cabinet where Ana had stored the craft stuff.

* * *

The next morning, the team found another talon-turkey hanging on the wall, signed “Udon & McCree”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments! I absolutely love to see all of your thoughts and reactions to their shenanigans. 
> 
> If you want to see more ideas, doodles (only on occasion), or bonus chapters, stop by my tumblr, [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com)!
> 
> ~DC


	5. (Christmas) Decorations

It had been Tracer that had brought out the dusty boxes of decorations sometime in mid-November.

McCree and (surprisingly) Soldier 76 had been the ones to protest the hanging of tinsel and red and gold and green decorations until  _ after _ Thanksgiving. They then realized that the team hadn’t really been planning on celebrating the American holiday and had intended to treat it as any other day; having brought it up and made a big deal of it, they had in turn volunteered themselves to host it.

But the story of the new Overwatch’s attempt at celebrating Thanksgiving was a story for another time.

By then McCree had developed an almost sixth-sense for Hanzo and looked up in time to see the pained expression that crossed the archer’s face as he stepped into the common room. McCree covertly glanced down at his arm and breathed a quiet sigh of relief: the tattoo was matte grey and faded, a sign that the spirits were elsewhere. The room was a mess of glass and plastic ornaments and tinsel and though the brothers often reiterated that the dragon spirits were in fact  _ not cats _ , McCree didn’t want to face the possibility of a six-foot lizard-creature charging the table while they were still unpacking things.

(If the spirits attacked the decorations  _ afterward _ , well...that wouldn’t be his problem.)

“Howdy,” he said quietly when he noticed that the archer hadn’t moved.

“Hn,” Hanzo replied, the pained look on his face still rather present.

In his distraction, some of the tinsel that McCree was untangling had gotten caught in one of his metal joints. Very carefully putting down what was in his other hand, he began tugging the caught strands. He was surprised when Hanzo very hesitantly stepped in to help, just as careful as McCree to not break any of the thin plastic streamers into the joints.

“Maybe putting me on tinsel duty wasn’t the best idea,” McCree said cheerfully as the last strand was tugged free.

Hanzo was looking away when he agreed with a distracted “hn.”

“Ah,” McCree said awkwardly as they coiled the tinsel into neat piles. “Where’s your noodles?”

“Meditating with Zenyatta,” Hanzo said after a distracted pause. His eyes were darting around the common room and McCree had the discomforting thought that perhaps the dragons weren’t who he should be concerned about. “Please excuse me,” the archer said quickly.

As McCree watched, Hanzo found a cloth grocery bag in the communal kitchen and began filling it: five shiny ornaments, a segment of tinsel, and one of the dusty stockings peeking out from the corner of the box. When Hanzo caught McCree looking, he looked away. “Um…I need to introduce it to them…slowly.”

_ I’d pay to see that _ , McCree thought but didn’t say, instead rolling the words in his mouth like he would one of his cigarillos. “No worries,” he said instead. “Lots more boxes where this came from I’m sure. Do what you need to do.”

Hanzo’s smile was equal parts relieved and warm. He mockingly put his fingers to his forehead like he was tipping the brim of a hat and McCree pretended to swoon. (If only Hanzo knew it was real.)

* * *

**I do not understand,** Udon complained.

Soba, whose hand-like paw was wrapped around one of the ornaments, glanced at its sibling.  **I like it,** it said and patted gently at the bauble.

“Like a cat,” Genji muttered to Hanzo who knew better than to visibly or audibly agree where the spirits could hear or see.

Ramen squinted at its host.  **We are not cats,** it informed them loftily.

“Your behaviors are similar,” Genji argued, looking at Hanzo for support. The elder knew better than to say anything and instead reached for another ornament which he placed in front of Udon in hopes of distracting it from whatever insult it may have taken from being compared to a cat. “We used to curl up in front of the fireplace and cuddle and take naps.”

**The fireplace was warm,** Soba pointed out.  **And you would not take a nap otherwise.**

Udon huffed.  **Naps are good,** it agreed. Peering at the ornament in front of it, Udon shifted its weight to reach out and touch it with a claw.

“It’s made of plastic,” Hanzo explained before it could ask. “But some of the nicer ones are made of glass and are more fragile.” Reaching into the bag of stolen decorations, Hanzo’s questing fingers found one such ornament and brought it out to show the cluster of three dragons.

Ramen bobbed its head though its eyes were more on the short strands of tinsel.  **And what is this?**

“It’s called  _ tinsel _ ,” Genji explained as Ramen very carefully picked it up in a hand-like paw. “People hang it up as decoration.”

All three spirits’ heads popped up when they heard a knock on the door. Seeing McCree in the doorway, they bobbed their heads excitedly. Soba leaned against the man’s thigh and made an attempt to smile.

**HELLO MCCREE!** It boomed excitedly. Hanzo winced and rubbed his temples.

“Chatty today?” McCree asked sympathetically, reaching down to rub his knuckles along Soba’s snout the way it seemed to like. It bobbed its head and Ramen scrambled over to be pet as well. “Here,” McCree said, handing the bag in his free hand to Hanzo and obliging Ramen’s silent request. “We found a few more decorations and thought you’d like to…um…slowly introduce them.”

Udon snorted.  **It’s not like we’re going to panic at the sight of decorations,** it muttered, flipping the tip of its tail in dissatisfaction.

_ It’s a culture shock, _ Genji told Ramen without saying it out loud; Ramen in turn spread the message to Udon, Soba, and Hanzo.  _ Christmas is not celebrated everywhere around the globe. _

Soba twisted its head to Hanzo.  **INVITE HIM INSIDE!** It told him.

“Come in,” Hanzo told McCree obediently. “They would like you to join us.”

A spot was cleared and McCree folded himself into a sitting position. After a few more scratches, Ramen and Soba wandered back to the ornaments on the ground. Udon finally succeeded in picking up the ornament in front of it, gripping it gently between its talons; after a moment it slipped and fell to the ground.

Fortunately it was only a plastic one so it bounced and rolled away, but Genji, Hanzo, and McCree had all sucked in nervous breaths regardless.

**I like the tinsel,** Ramen declared.

“Ramen likes the tinsel,” Hanzo translated for McCree.

“I noticed she likes shiny things,” McCree said agreeably. “Makes sense I guess, since her host’s a walking tin can.” Genji lifted a middle finger and McCree blew him a kiss.

Udon bobbed its head, dewlap extended.  **How is it hung for decoration?** It asked, peering at the tinsel as Genji twined the piece around Ramen’s neck. Without a face that could easily move to make expressions, it was difficult to tell what it was thinking.  **Like that?**

“It can be wrapped around a tree or around railings,” Genji told the dragons. “Sometimes people use tape or fastenings to hang it on walls.”

Always grumpy, Udon bobbed its head but said nothing. It batted, almost cat-like, at the ornament in front of it; the tip of its tail flicked.

**Why do you hang it on a tree?** Soba asked.

“Ah!” McCree said when Hanzo translated the dragon’s query in a half-hearted hope that the American would know the answer. He gestured for the bag he handed Hanzo and dug around for a bit. When his hand emerged, it held a fake miniature tree which he placed in front of the dragons.

Ramen tossed its head and Soba darted over excitedly, bobbing its head as it inspected the fake tree.  **What is this?** Soba demanded.  **It’s so tiny!**

“It’s a plastic tree,” McCree said before Hanzo or Genji could translate. “That is, it’s a little tree made of plastic. People decorate pine trees with ornaments and lights and tinsel.” To demonstrate, he (carefully) took the ornament from in front of Udon and finding a small piece of wire, attached it to one of the little branches. The tree looked ridiculous, the ornament being a quarter of its size, and it immediately began to list to the side until Soba tried to catch it and only succeeded in catching the ornament in its jaws.

Hanzo sighed, unsurprised when the ornament shattered into shards of bright red.  **OH NO!** Soba wailed though there was no outward expression of its distress except for the flare of its whiskers.

“It’s okay,” Genji said in a strangled voice, cupping his hands beneath its jaws. “Spit out the pieces, here.”

**DID I RUIN IT?** Soba asked as it obeyed.

McCree gestured to it and once its mouth was clear of plastic shards, Soba darted over to him for reassuring scritches. “You okay there, darlin’?”

**I am not a “darlin’”,** Soba protested halfheartedly, already leaning into the knuckles McCree were rubbing against its jaw and cheeks. It bobbed its head smugly at Udon and Ramen.

**Disgraceful,** Udon muttered back, extending its dewlap and bobbing its head back at Soba.

“They cannot be hurt by little bits of plastic,” Genji told McCree cheerfully as Hanzo picked up the remaining fragments from the floor of his room. “It just startled Soba.”

**Did it taste good?** Ramen wanted to know.

**We do not eat so I cannot taste,** Soba pointed out.

**I just wanted to say that.** Ramen bobbed its head smugly.

Udon snorted.  **Why do you decorate tiny trees with big ornaments?** It wanted to know.  **Why do you decorate pine trees?**

“You don’t use big ornaments on tiny trees,” McCree explained when Hanzo finished translating the query. “That was just a demonstration that went a little wrong. Um…” he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. “I don’t know  _ why _ people decorate trees but usually it’s a big pine tree. They’ll keep it in their house for a month and decorate it with lights and tinsel and those there ornaments – the one I put on the tree – are usually used for trees that big.”

**So you kill a tree,** Udon said disapprovingly.

(To be fair, Udon was disapproving – or at least appeared to be – of most things. Hanzo made a mental note to mention later to McCree, who looked crestfallen when Genji translated this for him.)

McCree scratched the back of his head again. “Well, I guess so,” he admitted. “Most people get fake trees now so they don’t have to keep buying new ones. The fake trees can be saved and sometimes they can be put into storage without taking the decorations off.”

**Lazy,** Udon grumbled chidingly, bobbing its head. Neither Genji nor Hanzo translated that.

**So are you decorating a dying tree?** Ramen asked.  **Can we help?** It glanced at Udon and then looked back at McCree.  **Can** **_I_ ** **help? Udon-who-is-not-a-noodle will be boring.**

**As** **_usual_ ** **,** Soba quipped.  **I want to help too! Can I be wrapped in tinsel?**

“They want to help decorate a tree if you have one,” Hanzo told McCree. The spirits all bobbed their heads, dewlaps extended. To McCree it looked like they were nodding in agreement but the brothers knew that it was really disapproval for only translating part of their message.

“’Course,” McCree said warmly. “As if I’d say no to you.”

Udon narrowed its eyes at McCree.  **It would be wise if you didn’t.** Hanzo didn’t translate that; Genji clearly considered it but in the end decided against it.

“We’re probably going to finish decorating the room first,” McCree continued, oblivious. “Then later we’ll go and look for a tree.”

**Why are you decorating?** Soba asked.

“ _ Kurisumasu _ ,” Genji explained. “Christmas.”

Udon and Soba’s heads swiveled toward Genji.  **Oh. Is that the holiday where you’re supposed to kiss under a plant?** Udon asked.

**And Hanzo was so nervous that he puked all over Uchida Akira?** Soba added.

Genji choked. “ _ What? _ ”

“What?” McCree asked, glancing between the brothers. “What happened?”

“ _ Nothing, _ ” Hanzo hissed, face flaring bright red. “Don’t worry about it.” McCree looked honestly concerned, glancing at the wheezing Genji but wisely dropped it. Mercifully, the spirits did as well…to an extent.

McCree distracted the spirits further by pulling more things from the bag he brought with him. There was another dusty stocking, a small wreath, and a round figure of a man dressed in red. The spirits approached, bobbing their heads curiously as they looked over the offerings.

**More dead plants,** Udon said disgustedly, nudging the wreath with a talon.

Soba bobbed its head.  **It’s fake again!** It pointed out and smacked the wreath so that it rattled and gave away its unnatural nature.

Looking at the figure, Ramen bobbed its head.  **What is this? Is this a god? An idol? It looks like the some of the figures from the temple.**

“Santa Claus,” McCree explained. “Um…he’s…well, he’s a story you tell kids. Children.”

Ramen’s ears flipped forward.  **I LIKE STORIES,** it roared. 

**STORYTIME?** Soba roared back. Both of them bobbed their heads, baring their teeth in what they probably thought were excited grins.

As Hanzo translated for McCree, Genji solemnly got up and fetched the first of many bottles of  _ sake _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, meant to post this last night but...clearly I forgot. Personally I don't think this is as funny as the jokes chapter, but then I do have a soft spot for really bad jokes. 
> 
> I had gotten caught up in trying to keep this (relatively) short so I removed a scene where our boys try to explain the whole concept of Christmas to the noodles. I'm turning that into a separate chapter...whenever I get around to actually finishing it up haha. 
> 
> I'm actually super surprised how much people seem to like this...thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments. Work yesterday was rough and seeing all the notifications come in about comments and kudos really made me smile and helped me survive without getting too angry at my coworkers. :'D
> 
> ~DC


	6. Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started out with presents. Wrapping them, to be exact. 
> 
> Then Soba wanted to help and ripped the paper. 
> 
> _Then_ Ramen got distracted by the pretty bows that Mei made on her presents and...what it was reminded of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this comic](http://itssinenoon.tumblr.com/post/168688228457/theyre-doing-their-best) (with permission) over on tumblr.
> 
> Some warnings for non-explicit discussion of bondage (specifically _shibari_ ) and a mention of awkward moments between brothers in a BDSM club. Why they went there, the world may never know, but I like to think it's because it was a part of their world when they were _yakuza_ bratlings. Also... _shibari_ is fricken gorgeous. 
> 
> BUT I think that's all the warnings I have. Hopefully you enjoy it!

Soba threw its head back in surprise when the paper beneath its claws ripped. Laughing, Jesse tickled beneath its jaws as it lifted off the table like it no longer felt the pull of gravity. “You’re okay, darlin’,” he said with a laugh. “It’s just fragile.”

It drifted toward him like an untethered balloon and gripped his extended hand with its talons. 

**I was not afraid,** Soba insisted though it rubbed its jaw against McCree’s temple. With his other hand, the one that wasn’t being held captive by the spirit’s shining blue talons, he scratched at its spine between its shoulders soothingly.  **I was simply startled.**

Aware that Genji was staring suspiciously at him, McCree smiled. “I’m sure it wasn’t scary for something as terrifying and dignified as you, darlin’,” he told Soba. “But I bet it was startling.” Udon bobbed its head in amusement, its dewlap half-extended. “Come on sweet cheeks,” McCree chided. “Hold still!”

**What are you doing?** Udon wanted to know as it tried to twist its head around to look at its own antlers.

McCree wiggled his trapped fingers and Soba released it, drifting a foot higher into the air before holding its height. It twisted like a shimmering blue decoration in itself, watching the proceedings below. “Almost done,” McCree assured Udon, patting its shoulders gently with his newly-liberated hand.

**What are you doing?** Udon repeated, bobbing its head and shaking its tail as if annoyed.

“Hold up!” McCree exclaimed with a laugh, tucking his hand under Udon’s head to still its movement. “Almost done, sweet cheeks!” Udon’s tail continued to lash as he picked up the red ribbon with his free hand and quickly tied it around its antlers. “All done! Now was that so bad?”

Snorting, Udon tossed its head, getting used to the feeling of the bow. McCree was proud that it wiggled but didn’t come loose as the dragon drifted upwards to join Soba in the air.  **What did you do?** It asked as those at the table giggled at the sight.

Soba twined around it in corkscrewing patterns. A moment later Ramen emerged from beneath Genji’s hoodie and drifted upward to swirl in the air above their heads as well.  **He tied a bow!** Soba exclaimed. It dropped into a dive and swirled around McCree’s head.

**It’s an ugly bow,** Ramen said.  **It’s crooked!**

Udon bobbed its head at Ramen. “I’d like to see you do better,” Genji teased his dragon. “It’s disapproving of your bow-tying skills, cowboy.”

Pretending that he hadn’t heard the dragons, McCree laughed. Ramen’s voice was very faint to him, much like Soba and Udon’s had once been. Most likely it would become louder as time went on, but it was fascinating to him that he couldn’t hear Ramen as easily as he could Soba and Udon.

He wondered if anyone else on base had begun to hear the spirits’ voices.

“Well, I never claimed to be good at tyin’ bows,” McCree said with a laugh as Hana tried to take a picture of Udon and the scarlet bow tied around its horns.

Soba twined around him and settled over his shoulders like a glowing feather boa.  **Will you do one for me?** It asked, nudging his cheek with its scaly nose.

“Soba wants a bow too,” Hanzo said with a slight smirk. They traded looks that had Genji narrowing his eyes in suspicion once more.

Udon dodged the lunge Ramen made for its bow and dove to wrap its long body around Hanzo’s shoulders.  **I LIKE THE BOW,** it boomed.

“Thank you,” McCree said, tipping his hat at it when Hanzo “translated” for him. “Now, c’mere Soba, let’s get you wrapped up.”

The dragon shook its head and wrapped its tail around McCree’s bicep.  **Why are you wrapping me up?**

“It’ll be fun,” McCree wheedled, reaching up to tug gently on the tuft of golden fur at the end of its tail. “C’mon down.”

**WHY ARE YOU WRAPPING ME UP?** Soba boomed, bobbing its head.

When Genji stopped laughing, he translated for McCree and the rest of the table. “Here,” Hana said, turning her phone around to show the dragon still twined around McCree’s shoulders. “It’s a thing – you wrap up cats in wrapping paper.”

Udon and Ramen drifted over to watch as well, turning McCree into a temporary perch for all three dragons. Genji took a picture of the absurdity of it as all three spirits watched the video; the rest of the table hid chuckles behind their hands as they continued to wrap their own boxes.

How the common area had turned into a gift-wrapping station was honestly beyond McCree. The tables had been cleared and the tubs of old craft supplies had been replaced with boxes and rolls of old and new wrapping paper, gift bags, assorted types of tape, about five pairs of scissors of varying levels of quality and functionality, and piles of new and used tissue paper. Another tote bin held rolls and rolls of ribbon and tulle. To keep the surprise from being ruined, those that participate had already tucked their gifts into plain shipping boxes or otherwise obscured the contents of the gifts.

**Why are you wrapping cats up?** Ramen whispered.  **Why are you wrapping Soba up?** It tipped its head down to peer into McCree’s face.  **Soba-that-is-not-noodles is not a gift.**

“I think McCree is just being silly,” Genji explained. “And trying to avoid wrapping his own gifts.”

McCree snorted but didn’t deny it. “Well Sobs, you’re a gift to  _ me _ – so why  _ not  _ wrap you up?”

The laugh of the spirits – a somewhat recent development, according to Hanzo and Genji – rattled through his skull like a box of nails that had been shaken.  **I DON’T WANT TO BE WRAPPED,** Soba thundered, ducking its head to rub against McCree’s cheek.  **At least…until you can prove you’re good at it.**

“Ain’t got nothing to wrap, darlin’,” McCree pointed out after Hanzo “translated”. They traded looks and hid their smiles behind their best poker faces.

Soba bobbed its head and drifted into the attached kitchen, returning a moment later with the box of chocolates Ana had hidden on top of the refrigerator. It wasn’t visible to many (except perhaps Reinhardt) but to the spirits and Snowball to whom gravity was apparently optional, it wasn’t as hidden. Fortunately, none of them could or  _ would _ eat the chocolate and regardless everyone knew better than to steal Ana’s chocolates. 

Really, the chocolates were one of the worst-kept secrets of the base.

Proudly, Soba drifted back with the box held carefully between its talons and placed it in front of McCree on the mangled remains of the wrapping paper it had torn through earlier.  **Are you not up to the challenge, cowboy?** Ramen taunted.

Udon and Soba snapped at it until it drifted toward the more sympathetic Hana with a disgruntled grunt and head bob. Smugly, Soba settled itself around McCree’s shoulders once more, looping its long tail casually around his neck and resting its front claws along the seam of his elbow.  **Let’s see,** Soba teased more gently than Ramen had.  **Can you properly wrap a gift?**

Pressing a hand to his mouth, Hanzo ducked his head slightly to hide a laugh as he “translated” for McCree. Under the table, he nudged McCree’s knee with his own sympathetically as Udon drifted over to Hanzo.

“Aw hell, sugar,” McCree lamented, running his fingers along Soba’s spine. “I think a box of chocolates is a bit different than wrappin’ up something as lovely as you.” Despite his words, he still reached for the roll of wrapping paper next to him.

Soba bobbed its head, giving another nails-rattling-in-a-box laugh that McCree tried not to wince at. Genji frowned at him.  **I cannot imagine that it is** **_too_ ** **difficult,** Ramen sniffed from its perch in Hana’s lap. It eyed the half-wrapped box in front of her while she tried to take selfies with the dragon.

On Hanzo’s shoulder, Udon bobbed its head.  **I would like to try,** it declared, much to McCree’s surprise. Then it looked down at its talons with its awkwardly-long phalanges.  **Or…** **_assist_ ** **.** It peered back at Hanzo, the curls of the bow wrapped around its horns bobbing with the motion.  **I would like to help disguise your Yuletide giftings,** it told Hanzo stiffly, clearly uncomfortable – there was a reason that the other noodles joked that Udon never did anything fun, after all.

From its perch on McCree’s forearm, Soba bobbed its head in an agreeable and encouraging  nod.  **It is not dissimilar to tying up a prisoner.**

Ramen peered at the curls of ribbon that Mei used on her gifts and how she made artful curls with a pair of scissors.  **Ah!** It exclaimed after a moment, extending its dewlap fully and bobbing its head smugly. It drifted out of Hana’s lap – much to her disappointment – and glided into the air over Mei. Snowball, who had been hovering at her elbow, rose into the air as well to bob around the faintly-glowing curls of its long body.  **I had** **_thought_ ** **it reminded me of something,** it explained when Hanzo, Genji, Soba, and Udon had turned their heads toward it curiously.

Using her fingers to hold the ribbons in place, Mei paused and looked up at the orbit of Snowball and Ramen above her. “Is something wrong?” she asked a little nervously. Despite their assertions otherwise, when the dragons got it into their heads they could be as playful – and destructive – as a room full of kittens and she was right to be concerned.

**Not** **_wrong,_ ** Ramen said cheerfully enough, twisting like an otter in the water; the silky curls of its mane drifted in the air in its wake, ruffling in the gentle anti-grav waves that rippled behind and beneath Snowball.  **It simply reminds me of that bondage thing.**

Hanzo and Genji both turned impressive shades of red and it was only by virtue of McCree being distracted by measuring out wrapping paper that he didn’t react similarly. Still, the words caught up as Soba twisted its head toward Ramen and he pursed his lips to fight not to react.  **Bondage thing?** Soba echoed.

**Oh,** Udon said, cocking its head back as it looked past Hanzo’s cheek at the small pile of presents and ribbon in front of them.  **The artful bondage, right?**

**Much better than simply tying up prisoners,** Soba agreed, extending its dewlap. If its mouth could form human expressions, it would be smiling.  **Much nicer too.**

Ramen bobbed its head as it drifted lower toward the present. It didn’t drift close enough to obstruct Mei though it did distract her as Snowball playfully chased its tail. “Is something wrong?” Mei asked again with a nervous smile.

“Nah,” McCree said, fighting to keep his voice even as neither brother seemed to be in any shape to respond. “I doubt it,” he added but fortunately Genji seemed too distracted to notice his slip.

Mei looked nervously at Ramen as it drifted by again but continued her wrapping. It paused a safe distance away, now obscuring Angela’s attempt at wrapping her gift, as it watched. The doctor threw her hands up – albeit with an amused smile – and gave up for the moment, allowing Ramen to perch on the edge of the box like some kind of glowing mutated meerkat. She played with the orange tufts of mane that floated in some invisible wind while Snowball continued to playfully chase the tuft of its long tail. Ramen glanced at it and flicked it out of the way not unlike a cat; Snowball warbled and continued to chase it back and forth, a pleased expression on its digital face.

**Those demonstrations were lovely,** Ramen said wistfully.  **Imagine how much nicer this would be if they used** **_those_ ** **techniques!**

Soba and Udon bobbed their heads in agreement.  **What was it called again?** Soba wondered.

**_Shibari_ ** **,** Udon said after a pause, bobbing its head smugly.

All three dragons hummed, not unlike a hover-engine.  **It was a lovely evening,** Soba said almost wistfully.  **Even if we did not participate.**

**Isn’t it typically sexual?** Ramen wondered and McCree watched in covert glee as the brothers’ faces steadily turned redder, their eyes widening in mortification. 

**It was probably why they went,** Soba said with wicked glee, bobbing its head.  **Can you imagine how lovely** **_McCree_ ** **would look?**

It was fortunate that no one save Soba had been looking at him and fortunate that he could blame the ripping of the wrapping paper on the sub-par scissors he was using to cut it. Next to him, Hana clucked her tongue disapprovingly at him. “Use a better scissors next time,” she chided. “You need to prove your worth so you can wrap up Soba! I need a video of that!”

McCree nodded absently and just barely managed to school his expression into neutrality by the time that Ramen turned its head toward him.

**He would look nice in red ropes,** Udon agreed.  **Or perhaps yellow silk like Hanzo’s scarf?**

**The red would have better contrast,** Soba pointed out.  **Especially in a chest harness.**

“ _ Enough _ ,” Hanzo said out loud, voice a little strangled. “We are not discussing…”

Hana perked up with a wicked grin. “Not discussing  _ what _ ?”

“Bondage,” Genji said, a gleeful grin across his face. His face was still flushed with embarrassment but it was fading now that the attention was no longer on him. “Ramen said that the ribbons reminded it of the art of  _ shibari _ .”

McCree scratched his jaw as he taped down an edge of the paper. He hoped that his embarrassment wasn’t obvious, but he wouldn’t put it past anyone there to see right through his ruse at the moment. “Now how does it know about that?” he asked innocently, earning a glare from Genji. “You into some kinky stuff there, Genji?”

**You are toying with fire,** Soba said with a rattling laugh as it tossed its head. Hanzo frowned at him and nudged his knee under the table.

Udon bobbed its head.  **What is wrong with kinky?** It wanted to know.  **Why is kink so bad?**

“I came here to wrap presents, not talk about kinks,” Angela said, hiding a grin behind her hand. “But if I had to bet, I’d guess that Genji dragged Hanzo to a BDSM club.”

There was dead silence at the table for a long moment, the quiet broken only by the gentle trills and whirrs of Snowball as it gleefully chased Ramen’s tail. Within the confines of McCree’s head, he could hear the dragons laughing.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if one or both of them were really into it,” Angela continued, gently shooing Ramen off her gift. As Snowball chased it, Ramen glided into the air and swirled overhead. Soba clearly thought of joining it but decided against it at the last second, choosing instead to rest over McCree’s arm. “It’s always the quiet ones…and Genji. Maybe  _ that’s _ how he learned such  _ tranquility _ .”

Hanzo very slowly let his head fall into his hands. Udon nudged him gently before climbing to perch on the back of his head, its dewlap extended smugly. “I thought the  _ dragons _ were bad,” he muttered.

“Whelp,” Hana said, pushing herself to her feet. “That’s hot and all, but I’m out.”

**She’s not far off,** Soba mused.

Hanzo pushed himself to his feet. “Aw, darlin’,” McCree murmured. “If you leave, who will translate for me?”

If looks could kill, McCree would be six feet under; Udon swirled around his head before slipping beneath the back of his jacket. Its bright red bow fell to the ground. Despite his clear embarrassment, Hanzo still shyly leaned down and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to McCree’s forehead. “I’m sure you could figure it out,” he grumbled around his blush.

Despite Udon being back in its bindings, McCree could still hear it say as Hanzo hurried out of the room,  **I’m sure we could find some suitable ropes in town.**

**Do you remember what kinds?** Soba asked, bobbing its head.  **I think there may be some in the storage rooms.**

Ramen laughed overhead as Genji buried his face in his hands.  **What about red and white rope? Like those candies?**

Swallowing hard, McCree forced himself to keep a neutral face, aware that Genji was frowning at him yet again. “I wonder what that was all about?”

**Festive bondage,** Soba agreed. It wiggled its whiskers at McCree who booped it on the nose; tossing its head, it snorted at him.  **You would like it, I think. Hanzo likes it a lot too. You should-**

“Whelp!” Genji interrupted, clapping his hands loudly. “That’s enough of that! I’m going to go find some brain bleach now.”

**Do you think Master Zenyatta knows about** **_shibari_ ** **?** Ramen whispered as it dispersed. Snowball gave a sad warble when its playmate disappeared.  **Or perhaps those other things you’re into-**

Anything else it said faded with it and McCree guessed that it was because it disappeared into its bindings on Genji. “Yup. Brain bleach,” he said in a surprisingly flippant voice. He offered them a jaunty two-fingered salute and vaulted out the window.

“Such a drama queen,” Angela murmured as she finished the last fold of her box.

Mei snorted. They both cut glances at McCree. “Don’t ask,” he warned. “And don’t be tellin’ nobody, neither.” On his arm, Soba bobbed its head but said nothing when McCree gestured for it to be quiet. It gave him a questioning look. “Women,” he told it as if it explained everything. Mei and Angela giggled. He gestured to the wrapped box in front of him. It wasn’t the neatest and was a little lumpy but it wasn’t half bad for something he fumbled through while the dragons talked about kinky sex stuff. “Whatcha say, Sobs? Good enough?”

“I can help,” Mei suggested. “It could be a group project.”

Soba eyed the box and then the pile of presents that Mei wrapped so neatly.  **I will not be used as practice for your kinky bondage sex thing with Hanzo,** it informed McCree.  **But you may wrap me in wrapping paper like a cat.**

“Now I know why Hanzo drinks so much,” McCree muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **BONUS:**  
>  “So,” Angela said as she gently folded the edges of the paper over Soba’s back. “Are we going to talk about how you two basically abandoned Overwatch for four months?”
> 
> Mei snorted. “Or your makeovers?” She giggled when she noticed that Soba was sticking its tongue out at her and gently scratched under its jaw, making its head tip back gleefully. 
> 
> " _Or_ that you can apparently hear the dragons?" Angela added. 
> 
> “Nope,” McCree replied as he carefully tied a bow around Soba’s neck and attached a few fake pieces of folly and a large jingle bell to the makeshift collar.
> 
> Suddenly nervous, he glanced up at Angela who shrugged. “Okay.” 
> 
> “Cool,” Mei agreed. “It looks weird but I guess I’ll get over it.”
> 
> They went back to decorating Soba who began purring. 
> 
> \----
> 
> McCree and Hanzo are totally hiding the fact that he can hear the dragons. More on this will be explained later, probably. 
> 
> For more blurbs, bonus chapters, and the occasional recipe, feel free to visit me on tumblr at [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com). 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone that has left comments and kudos. You have no idea how much it means to me to see your thoughts on the story and how it's progressing. Thank you so much!
> 
> ~DC


	7. Bathtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree just wants to relax and to use the _onsen_ at the Shimada Estate/Castle/Tower/Whatever-it's-called in peace. 
> 
> Udon clearly has other ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. The Thanksgiving segment was giving me a pain and the past few days have been a bit hectic. 
> 
> Again, not as funny as Jokes (I don't think I'll ever be that funny ever again, to be honest) but just the noodles-that-are-not-to-be-eaten being silly. Told more from McCree's perspective so there's less noodle chattery.

It was a long...well, after the third month McCree had lost track. He thought it could have been four or maybe five months, but certainly less than a full year. 

Well, however long it had been, it had been  _ lo-o-o-o-ong _ . It was difficult work weeding out the underground but it was certainly worth it to see the look on Hanzo’s face (and Genji’s, but Genji’s was certainly less...appealing to McCree than his brother’s) when he was able to walk unchallenged into his ancestral home. 

It was a good look for him, but McCree had always thought that anything on Hanzo was a good look for him. 

Except sadness. Sadness  _ didn’t _ but...well...it was certainly a good thing that Hanzo couldn’t hear his thoughts like he could his dragons. 

Once they had taken back the Shimada Castle (or Estate...or Shrine...or Temple...whatever it was called) they had celebrated, albeit with extreme caution. Just because everything _ seemed _ quiet didn’t mean that it was, after all. But still, Hanzo had shown the team something they could all get behind: the  _ onsen _ . 

It was such a cliche that the enormous space had one and yet...there it was. In the past when McCree had visited Japan he had very briefly visited one but unfortunately that had been more for business than pleasure. Now was the first time he had actually been able to go and in all honesty, he was quite excited. Except of course, for one issue. 

Nudity. 

In a traditional  _ onsen _ the guests were completely naked - there were no towels or swim clothes for modesty. And the Shimada Clan had been nothing but traditionalists...McCree could almost say that with a straight face, even. 

Though clearly reluctant, the brothers grudgingly allowed them their clothes in the  _ onsen _ , though McCree could see how much it pained them - the fixture was, after all,  _ ancient _ . After a very in-depth discussion of  _ What Must Not Be Done _ , the team was able to enjoy themselves. With swim clothes on, there was no need to separate by gender and so they all lounged comfortably in the largest pool, together as a not-quite-family. 

Still, there was something left to be desired. McCree felt  _ dirty _ walking into the mineral-rich water in his swim trunks and not in the good way. 

That was what led him to the  _ onsen _ late at night when no one else would be there. He didn’t want to deprive anyone of their relaxation, after all. Not that he was... _ ashamed _ of his body, but at the same time he wasn’t sure he wanted to subject anyone to that. 

Except maybe Hanzo. 

If he was willing, of course. 

( _ God Almighty _ did he hope he was.) 

To his surprise, the  _ onsen _ was lit by strings of paper lanterns and little glass lamps lining the stone path. A little disappointing was the realization that the bathhouse was lit - someone was there. 

Just in case he loosened Peacekeeper in her holster and crept along. One could never be  _ too _ careful, after all. It was the gentle bluish glow from one of the trees that made him relax. Seeing his hand lift from Peacekeeper, Soba glided over and twisted around him in midair.

“Hey bud,” he said, lifting his hand to brush along its cool turquoise scales. The spirit doubled back and rubbed its face against his wrist like a cat requesting attention. Obligingly he rubbed his knuckles under the hard scales of its jaw the way it liked and let its long tail coil around his shoulders. “Where’s your friend?” 

Soba tossed its head and drifted away toward the gate he had been aiming for. Ah. And where Soba and Udon were...most likely Hanzo was as well. When he hesitated, Soba drifted back toward him and nudged him with its nose. 

“Alright,” he said with a laugh. “I jus’ don’t wanna impose if Han’s wanting peace and quiet.”

“Impose away,” Hanzo’s voice said dryly from the other side of the gate. “I wouldn’t object to company. It’s a lovely evening for a bath.” 

Hoping that the unreliable lighting hid his blush, McCree chuckled and stepped toward the gate. His mouth immediately went dry when he caught sight of Hanzo - dressed not in the plain black swim trunks he had worn the times he had soaked in the  _ onsen _ with the team, but only in a plain white towel from the bathhouse. 

“It seems like we had the same idea,” McCree said with a breathless laugh. Hanzo’s face was unreadable as Soba twisted and twined around his legs. Udon was nowhere to be seen, though Hanzo’s tattoo was matte and faded - it was “out” but seemingly not nearby. 

Hanzo cracked a slightly smile, looking away first. “It felt wrong to bathe with clothes on,” he explained almost shyly. “Not when I have many good memories of spending time with my brother here.” He stiffened slightly, his face turning bright red. “Not…not like... _ that _ !”

Surprised, McCree couldn’t help but laugh. It felt like he hadn’t laughed like that in  _ ages _ \- strain from the extended mission that hadn’t been soothed away by the hot waters of the  _ onsen _ . “Didn’t think so,” he said when he had calmed himself. Hanzo was still blushing bright red and shifted on his feet. “Ah,” he said awkwardly. “I’ll just...um..” he gestured vaguely toward the bathhouse and Hanzo nodded. 

They separated - Soba followed McCree for a while, flirting with the cool evening breezes. It split off and doubled back toward Hanzo at the door to the bathhouse, tossing its head with what could very loosely be called a smile. Smiling, McCree made a finger-gun at it and with a silent sound that McCree thought was a chirp it twisted as if dodging the bullet. It tossed its head at him again, playfully baring its fangs and talons before twisting away once more. 

Laughing to himself, McCree slipped into the bathhouse. He found the cubbies near the shower stalls and began stripping quickly, folding his clothes neatly when he was done. His chestplate he leaned against the wall with his boots, both unable to fit into the small box, and carefully undid the mechanisms of his prosthetic arm. It could withstand a good soaking, but this was a chance to actually  _ relax _ . 

He ignored the little voice inside him that cautioned against it -  _ what would Hanzo think? _

The showers were cold and he bit back a yelp. Giving himself a moment to steel himself, he dipped back under the water with gritted teeth. He made sure to wash thoroughly from head to toe. Just because he could, he stole some of Hana’s pink strawberry shampoo and body wash. 

As he was rinsing off, he heard Soba come back. “Hey bud,” Jesse said over his shoulders as he dumped water over his hair. “I’ll be just a sec, okay?’ 

There was no noise to show that the dragon had heard, but it was foolish to think he was being completely ignored. McCree smiled as he turned around and found the spirit very carefully holding a large towel in its jaws. 

Careful not to flash the creature, McCree took the towel with a smile. “Thanks.” 

Soba bobbed its head excitedly and pranced in place like a puppy waiting to someone to play with it. Its ears flipped toward McCree’s missing arm but after a split second of a glance, it was peering up at McCree’s face with its sky-blue eyes. 

“Alright,” McCree said with a hearty laugh. “I think I’m ready.” It was difficult to wrap the towel around his waist with one arm so he settled for holding it in front of his junk as he walked. 

Hanzo glanced at him when he exited, already submerged in the water. “Usually, you leave the towel  _ in _ the bathhouse, cowboy,” Hanzo teased as he reclined in the warm water. The bluish water obscured the features of his body save for what lay above the water; he had tied his hair up into a neat topknot to keep it out of the way. “And you typically tie your hair up.” 

Smiling crookedly, McCree wiggled his truncated arm. “Well, I’m missing one so you’ll have to forgive me.” He grunted as he sat down at the edge, dipping his feet into the water. “As for the towel, you can thank your noodle there that you aren’t watching my junk flapping around.”

McCree flinched; what a dumb thing to say. Still, he tried to recover by shifting the towel aside and slipping into the water with a relieved sigh. He watched Soba walk across the rippling surface as surely as if it were solid ground. 

“They do that,” Hanzo said dryly. “And don’t say what religious figure it may remind you of; need I remind you of the Santa Claus incident?”

“You can’t blame me for  _ that _ ,” McCree said with an embarrassed chuckle. 

Hanzo’s smirk was deadly. “I can and I will,” he said as haughtily as the lord he had been before shit went down. He leaned back, showing off the lines of his muscles, highlighted by the glow of the paper lanterns and the water from the baths. It was a shame that his tattoo was nearly invisible without the presence of his dragon spirits. 

Carefully, McCree tried to emulate Hanzo’s posture and stretch out to relax. Soba was bobbing its head emphatically where it had perched on a nearby rock. “What’s it saying?”

“Soba is commenting on your hair,” Hanzo said after a brief pause. “It’s suggesting that I help you pin it up so no one has to swim with strands of hair floating around.” 

Chuckling, McCree pushed himself into a sitting position. “Have at it,” McCree said. “I can’t do it myself so if you’re not….bothered…”

The water around them sloshed as Hanzo moved closer. McCree tried not to whimper at the feel of Hanzo’s strong, calloused hands brushing up his neck.  _ Just an assassin putting up my hair _ , McCree thought hysterically to himself. He hoped that Hanzo wasn’t aware of how...interested his body was in his proximity. 

Beneath the water, Hanzo’s legs brushed his hips and McCree tipped his head back slightly to give the archer easier access to his hair. All too soon it was over and McCree smiled at Hanzo over his shoulder. “Thanks, partner.”

It was probably just a trick of the light or the heat of the  _ onsen  _ but Hanzo almost seemed to be  _ blushing _ . McCree bit back a comment about how  _ adorable _ he looked. 

They were still so close and Hanzo showed no indication that he was ready to move away. That was fine, of course, with McCree. He was perfectly fine with Hanzo’s presence. As if they weren’t both naked in the same bath, they sat as close as they typically would during their drinking nights. 

“This is nice,” McCree said awkwardly, leaning his arms over the lip of the  _ onsen _ . His truncated arm lay behind Hanzo but that could simply be chalked up as coincidence if the archer decided he was opposed to the idea. 

It seemed that he wasn’t - even, he leaned closer, as close as he would when he shared McCree’s serape, as close as he would while bracing against the brisk sea air of the base. 

_ Now _ , though, it was different. Now it was  _ flesh _ beneath McCree’s arm. Now they were both naked. 

He hoped that the water was murky enough that Hanzo wouldn’t notice McCree’s... _ interest _ in the situation. Turning his head to ask more about Soba’s smug head-bobbing, he found that Hanzo’s face was also tipped toward him. They were so close, just a few inches separating them. 

If anything, Hanzo seemed surprised by the proximity but he didn’t recoil. His eyes flicked back and forth between McCree’s and his lips. A blush rose to his cheeks - well, a darker one because they were both flushed by the lovely heat of the  _ onsen _ . 

The water sloshed as Hanzo shifted, twisting his torso so that he was more facing McCree. Hesitantly, Hanzo lifted his arm and brushed it against McCree’s cheek. Leaning into the caress, McCree slowly leaned closer -

Suddenly, the water around them exploded and the two of them would deny their terrified shrieks until their dying days. It was certainly lucky that the Shimada spirits weren’t truly creatures of the earth otherwise Udon would be very much dead. 

(The strangest thing was that he almost thought he could hear a voice like a distant echo in a cave saying,  **look, I am pretending to be a crocodile!** )

McCree still got a sharp bite for his troubles. It didn’t break the skin but damn, did it  _ hurt _ . Hanzo swore under his breath at the dragons - Soba seemed agitated, baring its teeth at Udon who was tossing and turning in the churning waters beneath the other spirit’s perch. At a sharp motion, the two of them disappeared into glittering blue mist and the tattoos that bound them to Hanzo returned to his body. 

For a long moment the both of them stared at each other with wide eyes, panting at the sudden spike of adrenaline. “I need a cold shower,” McCree muttered. 

Hanzo nodded wordlessly. “I...will join you.” 

The two of them climbed out of the  _ onsen _ on shaky legs and leaning on each other - perhaps a little too closely - stumbled into the bathhouse. 

Where they found the rest of the team, who had come running at their screams. 

It was Genji’s turn to scream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For bonus chapters (like [Family](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/168164845516/honored-spirits-bonus-chapter-family)), you can visit me on Tumblr at [Classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com).
> 
> I share "sneak peeks", additional thoughts, and currently a lot of bread recipes.


	8. Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree has been hearing strange voices for the past few months. It's been getting hard to ignore. 
> 
> Ultimately the voices don't _seem_ harmful, speaking of strangely innocent things but...in some ways their words are more hurting than anything else they could have said. They painted a picture of a future that McCree desperately wanted but knew he couldn't have. 
> 
> So he kept silent about the voices until he could keep silent about them no longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for canon-typical but not too explicit violence. 
> 
> I rewrote my "timeline" of chapters so I could (kind of) give you guys what you've been bugging me for a few chapters now haha.

 

Soba had tangled itself around his legs and lap, its head pillowed on his chest while Udon was more aloof, draping itself over his shoulders. It wasn’t particularly succeeding though, curling its head over his shoulder on the side opposite of Soba’s head so it could read the screen over his shoulder. 

“ _ Elena rushed forward, screaming, and the lizards fled into the darkness. But long before she reached the bassinet, she could see what had happened to the infant’s face, and she knew the child must be dead. The lizards scattered into the rainy night, chirping and squealing, leaving behind only bloody three-toed tracks, like birds _ .”

McCree paused and Soba and Udon bobbed their heads excitedly.  **I am pretending to be the biting lizard,** he thought he heard a voice say as Soba leaned up and licked his cheek. Its tongue was rough like a cat’s and he laughed as he turned to the next page on the screen. 

“Silly,” he told Soba, scratching at the base of its horns with his free hand. “Are you pretending to be the baby-eating lizard?”

On his other side, Udon opened its jaws enormously wide, baring its fangs and fat, forked tongue. He pretended to be afraid of it as it very gently closed its jaws in front of him. In an act that was surprising of Udon, who tended to be the more serious of the two, it snapped its neck forward - not unlike a striking snake’s - and licked his face from jaw to brow. 

“Hey!” McCree protested with a loud laugh. He wiped at his face even though the dragons weren’t physical creatures and thus didn’t salivate. There was still the  _ sensation _ of it, though he knew it was pretty much just in his imagination. “You damn beastie!”

Soba wiggled on his lap, nudging his chin and neck with its scaly nose. It seemed to be laughing - in the darkest corners of his mind, he heard a whisper of an echo of laughter and he tried not to dwell on it and his crumbling sanity. 

“If you two troublemakers are  _ done _ ,” he said, only pretending to be annoyed. Both dragons bobbed their heads with their teeth bared - their equivalent of great silly grins - and he laughed. “Do you want to continue?”

**What happens next?** The voice in his head whispered. 

Swallowing hard, McCree ignored it and began reading the next page of the book. 

 

* * *

Beneath the table at dinner, the dragons coiled around his and Hanzo’s legs. Though they couldn’t (and didn’t) eat, Soba still rested its head on McCree’s lap like a dog begging for food. Absently he scratched at the little spikes behind its horns and ears; against his leg he could feel its throat rumble in a purr. 

**Smooch,** he thought he heard a voice say and tried not to twitch. A glance up showed that no one looked to have said anything of the sort. 

Where one voice was, another was sure to follow close by. Relatively speaking, of course. 

**What is smooch?**

They had been getting louder lately. At first he had heard them infrequently as barely-there whispers. Now they were becoming more and more frequent - and louder. 

Frankly, it scared him - what  _ wasn’t _ there to be afraid of when you suddenly started hearing voices? His only consolation, what little there was, was that the voices never really seemed to be talking  _ to _ him, just around him. 

But real life wasn’t like the movies and mental illness was a real concern, especially for men in his profession, with his past. The last thing he wanted to do, the last way he wanted to die, was by something that he couldn’t see with the naked eye. 

So for now he kept it to himself, tried not to twitch too much when he heard them. It had to be wishful thinking, it  _ had _ to be something in his mind, but it was very easy to remind himself that the voices weren’t real given some of the things they said. 

Mostly, about Hanzo. Specifically,  _ him _ and Hanzo. How they were perfect together, how adorable they would be. The voices talked about marriage and children, of retiring from active field duty and killing to settle down. Their discussions made something inside him hurt because he knew that at the end of the day, Hanzo would never settle with a man like McCree.

**Smooch means kiss,** the first voice said. It was the more talkative of the two, with a slightly higher pitch. Both voices were deep, almost thunderous, and it took McCree a while to realize that there was a difference between the two. 

He didn’t like that he had heard them enough to know the difference. 

**What about smooch?** The second voice asked. Its voice was very slightly deeper than the first, gruffer, and spoke far less. 

The first voice laughed as Soba nipped at his fingers beneath the table.  **McCree and Hanzo should smooch.**

**They should mate,** the second voice corrected.  **They would be good mates.**

There was a reason that he could convince himself that the voices weren’t real: they spoke of strangely silly things with an equally-strange sort of innocence. 

**They clearly love each other,** the first voice agreed.  **Why don’t they mate?**

The second voice grunted.  **They are afraid,** it said almost gently.  **It’s easy to misconstrue things. Humans are silly creatures, after all.**

**Humans** **_are_ ** **rather silly,** the first voice agreed.  **But Hanzo likes McCree and McCree likes Hanzo. It is so simple.** It sighed. 

**They should smooch,** the second voice said, strangely out of character for what he had learned of it. 

**Yes!** The first voice said with a surprisingly lighthearted laugh.  **They should smooch. They would like it, I’m sure - if only they weren’t so silly!**

To McCree’s relief, the two voices stopped talking and he continued his dinner, hoping that his unease wasn’t noticeable. He didn’t want to be called “crazy” after all, and the last thing he wanted was to have them pull him out of the field. 

He wasn’t a danger to the team, after all...just to his own liver.

That night if he drank himself to sleep, it was no one’s business but his own. And if he dreamt of hands calloused by years of combat and archery, of dark eyes and magical tattoos that glowed with blue light, then that was a secret that he would take to his grave. 

 

* * *

 

The roar of the spirits as they were released was deafening. 

It seemed that the night sky over Dorado was lit up by electric blue. Their twin roars bounced off the brick and stucco walls and even though he knew them in all of their forms, he felt his knees lock up in surprise and terror when he saw the twin spirits bearing down on his position. 

Thing was, no one wanted to test to see if someone that was not a Shimada could withstand the roar of the spirits coursing through them. It was something that they weren’t even sure they could use Mercy’s Caduceus staff to offset. More, even the brothers themselves weren’t sure that a  _ Shimada _ could withstand having a dragon turned on them. Hanzo and Genji of course had stories of turning on the clan and hunting down its members - but none of them had used their dragons on them. 

They had wanted the deaths to be personal. 

It had been a surprise to McCree to learn that Hanzo hadn’t  _ actually _ turned his dragons on Genji that night. The dragons - all three of them - had been elsewhere, one of the reasons that they were now so cautious to keep their human hosts nearby. Hanzo really had only once turned Soba and Udon on Genji: when Genji invited him to join Overwatch and Ramen had protected him.

Once when he was drunk, Hanzo had told McCree what it had felt to feel his own spirits burning through him. Like fire, he had said, and lightning, and water. It burned and it froze and it felt like he was about to be washed away to be forgotten. 

_ And those were his own spirits _ . 

McCree had seen enemies waste away, turning to brilliant red smears, or being carried away like a kite in the winds of a hurricane - everyone had. No one wanted to be a part of it and they scrambled out of the way whenever they heard Hanzo use the incantation to summon their battle forms. 

More deafening than their spectral roars were their voices.  **GET AWAY FROM HIM!**

**HE IS OURS!**

His breath was stolen from him for an entirely different reason. There were two different voices that he had been hearing for the past month or so and now they boomed louder than thunder with no substance to their roars. 

It had been the dragons.

_ Of course _ it had been them. He laughed breathlessly. There were questions, of course - a thousand questions bouncing around in his head - but now was not the time to voice them. McCree had many other things on his mind, like the burning in his midsection, the rattling of his punctured chestplate as he moved, the burning line of burgundy liquid that spilled from his side.

The dragons twisted around each other like a glowing hurricane. Then, unlike every other time they were summoned in battle, they split: Soba twisted around McCree protectively, looking as delicate as spun glass, while Udon continued to twist, destroying the stragglers in the alley. 

**ARE YOU HURT?** Soba roared. 

Breathing hard, McCree found himself slipping, listing to the side. He braced himself for the burning-freezing-shocking sensation that Hanzo had described but Soba’s side only felt...cool. Like the cool fingers of the evening wind after the heat of the desert sun. 

**Are you hurt?** Soba asked again, its thunderous voice much softer, gentler.  **McCree, please be alright.** It twisted around, shoving its whiskered nose into his stomach. 

McCree groaned breathlessly when it pressed on the wounds there. Soba wailed as if it could feel his pain; Udon, who had begun to drift over, disappeared into a brilliant blue mist - returning to Hanzo, perhaps to lead him to McCree, perhaps to report what was found. 

“Shh, darlin’,” McCree muttered, burying the fingers of his free hand into Soba’s electric blue mane. Unlike when it was in “noodle form”, Soba’s mane now was longer and bluer - really, its entire body was entirely blue, a jarring shift from the accents of gold he was used to seeing in its golden mane, the tufts of its tail, and its branching horns. “I’m alright.” 

**You’re not,** Soba wailed, nudging its snout closer once more. It was more gentle, its enormous nostrils moving as it seemed to sniff the air. Hanzo had once said that as non-physical beings, they had no ability to taste or smell and no need to breathe - the movement of their sides and nostrils only made it appear that they were doing so. 

McCree chuckled, letting himself slip down until he was sitting with his legs extended, leaning his back against the side of the spirit coiled around him. He groaned as his wound was jostled. “C’mere, darlin’,” he said, patting his knee. “Lemme pet you.” 

**I should be getting you help,** Soba said miserably.  **You shouldn’t be the one comforting** **_me._ **

Chuckling, McCree gestured for the spirit again. “Naw, darlin’,” he said. “C’mere. Let Udon do the work. Lemme just...lemme just lean on you. C’mere.” Soba shifted after a long pause, twisting so its head rested obligingly on his knee. “Sorry ‘bout the blood, darlin’,” he mumbled, beginning to list to the side until he was caught by Soba’s elbow. 

**Bleeding on me is not something you should be worried about,** Soba said disapprovingly, nudging him gently with its big nose. 

“Maybe not,” McCree said faintly with a wheeze. The edges of his vision was turning black and his free hand was very awkwardly stroking in Soba’s mane, becoming clumsier and heavier. Now it was more like an absentminded kind of pat, something that probably wasn’t very comfortable. The little spikes along its neck and nuchal crest bit even through the leather of his glove though it could have only been wishful thinking on his part. “But it’s not something I want you to worry about.” 

The spirit twisted.  **You can hear me,** it said wonderingly. 

McCree laughed weakly. More blood spilled out, as red as his serape which...he wasn’t sure where it was anymore. His chestplate was a crumpled mess from Doomfist’s punch; he certainly had broken ribs. He could taste copper on his lips. 

He was going to die of shock or blood loss. 

Worse, Soba would have to deal with that death. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled and struggled to right himself. His limbs felt leaden. “Darlin’, help me up.” 

**You need to be still,** Soba said miserably.  **Keep pressure on your wounds - help is on the way.**

It was too late, McCree was sure. He didn’t share this with the spirit dragon. “I think I hear somethin’,” he told the spirit around a leaden tongue. “Need my gun.” He wanted Soba to  _ go _ \- he didn’t want it to see him die like this, sprawled out in an alley.

Surprisingly, it was true. Metal feet struck the ground with more noise than they usually did as McCree continued to list to the side. He draped over the back of Soba’s neck and it whined in distress, its tail snapping like an agitated cat’s. Blue lightning that felt like cool fingers against McCree’s overheated skin sparked over its scales. 

“McCree!” the angel said thickly. There was a clatter and his head was pressed between two hands. One of them was gloved. 

The angel fumbled with his chestplate and he groaned in pain. Though he could barely see - bloodloss probably, or perhaps he had simply closed his eyes at some point - he saw and felt the gentle golden glow of a biotic emitter. 

“76 ‘s not gonna like tha’ you stole ‘t,” he tried to mumble. 

**Save your strength,** Udon said though McCree couldn’t see or feel it. 

McCree sighed and gave in and his world faded into darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, McCree is totally reading the noodles _Jurassic Park_ and smooching is my new favorite word. 
> 
> It didn’t come out as happy and light-hearted as I had wanted it to but I can’t really find it in myself to be too disappointed in it. I’m not the proudest of it but I am certainly satisfied. 
> 
> As always thank you to everyone who's left me comments and kudos. I love seeing your thoughts and reactions to this and it's certainly inspiration to write more for it. 
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> ~DC
> 
> P.S.: Almost forgot! If the whole _Jurassic Park_ thing seems completely out of the blue...that's because I posted a bonus chapter to my tumblr, [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com), called [Intelligence](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/168371453601/honored-spirits-bonus-chapter-intelligence). The movie and books are introduced to the noodles-that-are-not-to-be-eaten there and they enjoy it quite a bit.
> 
> ~DC


	9. Guilt/Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some, guilt and duty go hand-in-hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, meant to post this last night but...clearly I forgot.

“ _ Brother, _ ” Genji said very quietly. “ _ You need to stop this. _ ” 

Hanzo said nothing, cradling the bottle of sake in his hands. 

Beneath his skin, Ramen rolled and twisted anxiously. To his surprise, the dragon didn’t feel like manifesting, which made Genji nervous. “ _ Brother, where are your dragons? _ ” When he didn’t answer, Genji sighed and sat beside his brother. 

**They are there,** Ramen assured him.  **They are still with him.**

“ _ You can’t keep doing this to yourself, _ ” Genji murmured. 

Hanzo moved then, pulling the edges of McCree’s serape tighter around himself. It was still stained with grime from the Dorado streets but mercifully free of blood and gore. How it had escaped that fate, Genji wasn’t sure, but he was glad because it made it just a little less…unsanitary. 

“ _ Hanzo, _ ” the cyborg murmured with a heavy sigh and realized just how much he wasn’t sure about how to deal with his grieving brother. “ _ You need to stop this. _ ”

_ You’ve said that before, _ Hanzo said through his dragons as he took a long drink from his bottle. 

Through Ramen, Genji told him,  _ And I meant it before too. _

**SHIMADA HANZO,** Ramen boomed. His brother flinched.  **WHAT AILS YOU?**

Hanzo turned, burying himself further into McCree’s serape. “Leave it be,” he said out loud. His voice was low and raspy, his voice slurred by the alcohol. He took a long drink again. “And leave me alone.” 

As Genji watched, Hanzo’s skin and clothes rippled as his spirits shifted. They sparked with blue lightning, their bodies looking as delicate as spun glass. It wasn’t  _ unnatural _ , but it was extremely unusual, especially given how comfortable they had become with the team. 

This wasn’t their “noodle form” as Hana had dubbed it - this was something extremely brittle and jagged, something hurt and hurt _ ing _ . 

For the first time in a long time, Genji felt  _ fear _ \- both for and  _ of _ his brother. 

**Leave them,** Ramen cautioned. Gone was its playful nature, reverting into something ancient and wise.  **They are hurting and it is as Master Zenyatta says: you cannot help those that do not want it.**

_ Even if he needs it? _ Genji shot back silently.  _ Look at him! _

**I am,** Ramen reminded him.  **He needs help, yes, but nothing you or I do will have any effect if he did not choose to accept the help.**

Reluctantly, Genji got to his feet. Hanzo showed no sign that he had registered the motion. His hand was shaking as he brought the bottle back to his lips. Standing beside him, Genji could see the shattered remains of another bottle - maybe more - on the boulders below. 

“Very well,” he said thickly. “If you need me…”

“Go,” Hanzo said shortly. 

Genji paused as he made to leave. “You know,” he said despite Ramen’s protests. “This...this isn’t what McCree would have wanted.” Without waiting for any further response, Genji left and Ramen writhed beneath his skin, real and prosthetic alike, in an echo of his own distress. 

* * *

In some ways, it was worse that Hanzo didn’t hide himself away in his room. He looked honestly terrible - his hair was messy, there were dark smudges under his eyes, and he shuffled through the base like he was an hour from death. The only time there was any life in his step was during training; the rest of the time he lumbered listlessly with McCree’s signature red and gold serape draped around his shoulders, reeking faintly of alcohol. 

More than once someone had tried to confront him about it. In the end they had to bench him for being a danger to himself and the team. He slept so poorly - and it was so obvious that he did - that it seemed that any time he leaned against something he fell asleep. 

When consulted, Angela admitted that she was far from being a psychologist but she knew enough of the signs of depression to be worried. It was the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, of his active career at the moment. It led to a long and awkward discussion with Winston and Dr. Ziegler about his mental and physical fitness for the team until he could get his act together. 

“You’re dealing with a lot right now,” Dr. Ziegler told him as gently as she was able to. “Perhaps you should consult with Zenyatta, who is much more qualified to deal with grief.” 

As proudly as he could, Hanzo straightened and looked down his nose at them. “I will take a leave of absence from active duty,” he said and they tried to keep eye contact with him as the spirits bound to him writhed beneath his skin. It looked unnatural and grotesque, as if something tried to break free of him; when the scales and claws and long bodies of the dragons did, like whales breaching the surface of the sea, their scales were brilliant blue, glowing with a harsh light.

In some ways Hanzo’s conditioned was worsened by his leave of absence - it gave him more time to mope and drink. They established a Hanzo Watch to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally kill himself but even extremely drunk and morose, Hanzo was a master at stealth. 

**It wasn’t your fault,** Soba told him late that night. 

_ You are wrong, _ Hanzo said silently.

Udon twisted beneath his skin with the sensation of a muscle spasm.  **It was not,** it agreed. 

**You knew the risks of this profession,** Soba pointed out. It lifted its head free of his skin, resting its chin on the thumb that wasn’t occupied by the neck of the bottle of  _ sake _ .

Hanzo took a deep drink of his drink. At this point the alcohol didn’t even burn.  _ So I shouldn’t have… _

**NO!** Soba and Udon boomed in unison; he flinched and the bottle in his hand slipped through his drunken fingers to shatter on the rocks below. Soba wiggled further out of his skin with an odd tugging sensation like a piece of tape was stuck to his arm. Its motion had him instinctively reaching up to cradle the dragon in both hands. 

Udon emerged as well, wrapping tightly around his shoulders while Soba coiled around his waist.In a surprising show of affection, Udon nuzzled its short face into Hanzo’s cheek.  **Love and affection is never something that you should punish yourself for,** Soba told him gently. 

_ “If I hadn’t let him go off…” _ Hanzo said nervously in Japanese. 

Pushing itself further from his skin, Soba floated its serpentine body in front of his face.  **Teams watch each other’s backs,** Udon said before its sibling could say anything. Hanzo wrapped his arms around Soba in a way he hadn’t done with Udon since he was a young child.  **As do families.**

Hanzo, in the way he sometimes did, buried his face into Soba’s mane. Udon twisted down and licked the tears off his cheeks. 

“ _ I am not a child! _ ” Hanzo snarled, brushing Udon away. The dragon glided away and doubled back effortlessly, as if gravity didn’t exist. It twined around Hanzo again and he wrapped another arm around its shoulders. 

**No,** both spirits agreed in unison. 

Udon tossed its head.  **You are not a child but like a child you are blaming yourself for something beyond your control.**

**McCree loves you,** Soba said gently.  **And he does his duty to himself and to his team and to justice. You had long since accepted this, had you not?**

“Yes,” Hanzo said out loud and fumbled for his alcohol before remembering its tragic fall to the rocks below. “Of course.” 

Soba nodded its head, tangling its claws into Hanzo’s shirt and McCree’s serape as it pressed closer to him.  **So what happened in Dorado is beyond your control. You knew he had gone off and had searched him out - that is why we were able to find him for you.**

**And that is how we knew,** Udon added.  **We had become so caught up in thinking of “what if” to realize that what we wanted was reality.**

Hanzo swallowed and buried his face in Soba’s side. He was drunk enough now, the alcohol doing its work, that he no longer felt too prideful to treat Soba like a stuffed animal in a child’s arms. “I am...unworthy.”

**Then prove your worth,** Udon said gruffly.

Soba twisted.  **You are worthy enough for he has already chosen you,** it corrected. 

**If you think yourself unworthy, then redeem yourself until you can believe that you are,** Udon said and Soba snorted.  **You should not feel guilty for desire nor should you feel guilty for what has happened. Instead you should look to the future and rectify your actions there.**

Agitated, Soba twisted.  **McCree’s choice is beyond your control,** it hissed.  **Clearly to him you are worthy for you are his mate and he is yours.**

“Was,” Hanzo corrected absently, toying with the tufts of Udon’s tail where it draped over his shoulders. He took a deep breath. “And now I must…” He took another fortifying breath and pushed himself to his feet, wobbly from his inebriation. 

Soba twisted away, hovering in the air in front of Udon and Hanzo.  **YOU ARE NOT GUILTY OF WHAT HAS HAPPENED,** it boomed, its dewlap extended. 

“Perhaps not,” Hanzo said, reaching out a hesitant hand to cup Soba’s jaw in his palm. “But this...this is something I must do for me. I must rectify my actions in my own eyes and to do that…”

Annoyed, Soba snarled and tossed its head.  **So you will leave everyone behind,** it growled.  **You will abandon your team and your duties here.**

“I was put on a leave of absence for my own safety and theirs,” Hanzo pointed out. “I was given as long as it takes to ‘sort myself out.’” He wobbled slightly, bracing his hand on the railing and using the other to cup his head dizzily. 

Udon bobbed its head, sinking slightly through the cloth over Hanzo’s shoulders to sink back into his skin.  **And we will be here to guide and protect him,** it told Soba.  **As is** **_our_ ** **duty.**

**No,** Soba said flatly.  **Your...guilt - however unfounded - is no reason to leave. We have a duty here - to McCree, to Genji, to the team. Leaving now would be breaking promises.**

Hanzo nodded. “I know,” he said. “But they will understand - they told me to settle myself and this...is how I must.” 

Gentler, Soba drifted closer and ran its blunt nose over Hanzo’s face. He smiled slightly as its thick whiskers, more or less prehensile, tickled his cheeks.  **I caution you as your spirit guide,** it said very softly.  **That this is the wrong course of action to take.** **_Face_ ** **this guilt you think you carry - don’t run from it.**

**You are not guilty of any action here,** Udon said.  **And you have a duty to yourself, to your mate, your team, and to your brother. Right now you must choose.**

Hanzo buried his fingers in Soba’s mane.  _ I choose McCree, _ he said directly to them, suddenly afraid that someone would overhear. He wobbled slightly from the alcohol.  _ I choose to avenge him. _

**Then release your guilt and accept your duty,** Udon said as it once had said what felt a lifetime ago.

Taking a deep breath, Hanzo nodded.  _ I know now what I must do. _

**Then do it.**

Soba hissed.  _ I need your strength _ , Hanzo murmured to his spirits. 

**I grant it,** Udon said immediately and the flush of alcohol disappeared from Hanzo’s skin. 

Hanzo looked at Soba as Udon sank beneath his skin.  _ Come, _ he said to it.  _ We have work to do _ .

To his surprise, Soba drifted away.  **NO,** it boomed.  **I will remain here.**

Beneath his skin, Udon growled. Hanzo nodded - he knew why. In some ways it was to teach him a lesson; in some ways it would make it easier for Hanzo to leave knowing that one of his spirits was protecting the team. How it would or could be wielded in battle he wouldn’t know, but already some of the tension in his shoulders was released, knowing Soba would be there to watch over them. 

Hanzo beckoned and Soba allowed him to wrap his arms around it in a last hug.  _ We will be back… _

**Eventually,** Soba said a little petulantly. When Hanzo released it, it regarded him for a long moment before gently licking his cheek and gliding away. 

He could tell how unsettled Udon was and sighed.  _ Let’s go, _ he said quietly to it.  _ We have a lot of work to do and a lot of distance to travel _ .

 

* * *

The halls were empty - unsurprising since it was nearly 3 in the morning - but Hanzo knew better than to let anything fall to chance. Udon drifted ahead, invisible to human eyes as it glided through the air. When it reached their destination, it drifted through the door.

Hanzo kept walking, listening carefully for any sign of his teammates. Athena’s cameras weren’t as ubiquitous as many seemed to believe so on the way to his room he walked in full view of them, swaying and shuffling drunkenly. There were no cameras in his room or outside his window. Well, there  _ had _ been but the brackets holding it up had rusted away in the salt air and after years of wear and tear; fixing the camera, which covered the entire sea wall, was never very high on the priority list of things to be repair. 

As Hanzo was finishing packing up, Udon returned, spitting out its mouthful of antiquated bullets, brushed bright gold and brass, into his hand. While it was true that McCree wasn’t really one for holding grudges, he most certainly did have a running tally - six of the eight bullets on the band of his stetson - of people that needed to die. 

Of Justice that still needed to be dispensed. 

Hanzo eyed the bullets in his hand as Udon hovered in front of him.  _ I had liked my hair long, _ he said silently to Udon.  _ I liked when Hana and McCree would braid it. _

**There is no shame in what you have done,** Udon replied.  **You do not need to cut it.**

_ If I will do this, I will not do it by halves.  _ He picked up his  _ tantō _ and began tugging his longer hair up.

He thought his oldest spirit guide sighed.  **Do what you must, but please do not cut off all of it like last time. It was unsightly. Please go to someone who can do it properly this time.**

Hanzo smiled slightly and parted his hair, tucking both halves into neat knots. Wary of Udon’s warnings, he considered himself in the mirror of his suite as he unsheathed the  _ tantō  _ and brought the small blade to his head; the blade was sharp enough that it didn’t take any pressure to shear off the second knot. 

Consulting the mirror once more, he gently cleaned up the cuts and left the knot on the desk where Genji would find it; the  _ tantō _ he tucked back into his  _ obi _ though it made something churn in his stomach to do so. Still, it was a gift from Genji and one he prized despite his thoughts on the matter. There was something to be said of such a gift - perhaps it was a sign that Genji truly did forgive him and trust him. 

**Of course he does,** Udon said. 

_ Hush _ , Hanzo replied without heat. Scooping up the bullets again, he tucked it into a silk pouch which he hung on his  _ obi _ next to his  _ sake _ gourd.

**It is fortunate that Soba-that-is-not-to-be-eaten is staying behind,** Udon commented as it descended into the tattoo that bound it.  **The tattoo on your arm is becoming recognizable.**

_ I am  _ yakuza, Hanzo pointed out. He settled the packed bags on his back and slipped out the window. 

Udon chuckled beneath his skin.  **You** **_were_ ** **,** it reminded him.  **Now you are a hero of Overwatch.**

Halfway down the sheer cliff face, Hanzo paused.  _ I don’t feel like one. _

**In time you will see,** Udon replied.  **You need not be a hero to all - sometimes it means more to be a hero for just one person; sometimes it is enough to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.**

Despite his precarious position, Hanzo released the rock face with one hand to press it to his chest. Though Udon was on his back, he could still feel the ripple beneath his skin as the spirit settled back into its binding. 

_ Thank you, _ Hanzo said softly and resumed climbing.  _ That...means alot to me. _

**Good,** Udon said with a low groan.

Smiling despite the seriousness of his plan, Hanzo continued to climb down. The cool sea breeze wove its fingers through the bared sides and back of his skull and he shivered. 

 

* * *

It had been longer than a week – or so Soba thought. The human concept of time sometime confused it without its host there to count it down for it. Udon was much better at keeping time, but Udon had been with their host far longer than Soba had.

Perhaps it had been a month…perhaps less. But Soba was patient. Its memory was long – when it first met Hanzo, they had tried to guess at its age from its memories. They hadn’t succeeded in narrowing things too far down, but what Soba – then unnamed – had been able to recall for the young man, had allowed them to guess that it was at least a few thousand years-old.

So Soba knew how to be patient. After all, hundreds of years could pass in the time it waited for a new host. Hundreds of years or never at all – it mattered not to Soba.

But still, in the nebulous amount of time it had spent with the Shimada Clan and later the “heroes” of Overwatch…it had grown fond of them. It had forgotten how…interesting humanity could be.

Like McCree.

Which was why it waited.

Patiently.

Still as stone, hiding its presence from the only other dragon nearby that could sense it.

It sat.

It watched.

It waited.

At last it was rewarded for its patience. The musician-healer Lucio and the doctor Angela Zeigler walked beneath its hiding place, speaking to each other. “We can take him off the sedatives now,” the doctor was saying to Lucio in a hushed voice. Soba could still clearly hear and listened intently. “He looks more than stable enough. Don’t speak of…”

Lucio nodded to a cacophonous noise of his clunky hairstyle clicking together. Soba used to like playing with them and the little speakers like beads at the end of them but now was not the time for playing.

With sharp eyes Soba watched as they fiddled with machines and medicines it didn’t understand. It held very still, unseen, unheard, unnoticed, and waited.

And waited.

It was some time before it could move and just to be sure it waited until the light coming through the window was the silver of moonlight and the golden glow cast by the doctor’s office was dimmed by her door.

“Hey buddy,” McCree said quietly as it alighted on the edge of his bed. He smiled weakly as he cupped its jaw in his good hand, trailing various tubes and electrodes. “How’ve you been?”

**Better in some ways than you,** Soba replied and a little shiver of excitement ran down its spine at the knowledge that  _ McCree could hear it _ .

McCree chuckled, looking surprised when Soba hushed it, twisting its head around to look at the doctor’s door cautiously. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked in a muted whisper.

Careful of his injuries – mostly healed by now but still tender – and the accoutrements attached to his arm like the webs of some demented spider, Soba curled up with McCree, resting its head on his collarbone.  **Things are better now that you’re awake,** it said instead, thinking of the doctor’s words to Lucio.  **But you must be silent – no one knows that I am here. If you could…**

It knew that McCree suspected something but didn’t ask, instead running his fingers down the bumps of its spinal crest. “I won’t tell no one,” McCree promised in a whisper. “Where’s Han?”

**You do not need to speak out loud to me,** Soba told him.  **I don’t think so, anyway,** it added.

“A little much for me,” McCree whispered back. “Maybe later.”

Soba bobbed its head, not surprised.  **Hanzo is…away.** When McCree gently prompted it, Soba told him what Hanzo had done.

The man sighed heavily when it was done. “Lord give me strength,” he muttered. “I’d chase after that man and bash him over the head, you mark my words.”

**Hmm,** Soba said with a low, thrumming purr that made McCree smile.  **I am a lord no longer and neither is my host, but strength I can still give.**

McCree regarded the dragon with dark eyes before a smile that bared his teeth split his face. He laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, there will probably be one more serious chapter before we return to the noodles-that-are-not-to-be-eaten not understanding humans and omnics. 
> 
> With the release of the Winter Wonderland event and my work becoming busier, this will slow down a bit. I'm planning out a schedule of writing and binge-playing haha so hopefully the updates won't be too far apart. :)
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos. Work's been getting busy lately and everything's a mess and it's nice to check my emails on breaks and see the notifications :')
> 
> Also, feel free to stop by my tumblr, [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com). I post sneak-peeks, blurbs, and the occasional recipe. 
> 
> ~DC


	10. Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Soba could write, it would write a paper and call it something along the lines of _The Peculiar Practices of Human Mortal Beings and their Courtship Rituals_. After its observation of Hanzo and Jesse's own courtship rituals, it would break the process into three major events after the initial interest in mateship had been displayed and accepted between two humans:  
>  Dancing  
> Fighting  
> Nesting
> 
> Of course, it _could_ be wrong, but it didn't think it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself “DC, you’re going to finish this chapter this weekend even if it kills you”. Don’t worry I’m still alive…for now.
> 
> Not too satisfied with the way this came out but once more I’m not the most disappointed. For the sake of flow I had to cut a few scenes but I don’t think it came out too terribly. 
> 
> As I said in the last chapter, this will be the final serious chapter (for now) and we will be returning to silly-serious noodles next.

**Dancing**

McCree leaned back from his plate with a sigh. Through Soba, he could understand some of the mutterings of the diners around him. 

_ Greedy  _ gaijin. 

_ How gluttonous; filthy Americans _ .

He brought his Ramune soda to his lips, frowning when he realized it was empty. Still, he used the large blue cap to hide the movement of his lips. “Do you know when our  _ nezumi _ is coming in?”

**Patience,** Soba cautioned, though it sounded amused.  **Greedy** **_gaijin_ ** **.**

“Rude,” McCree sniffed though it was in jest. “What was this called again? I like it.”

**_Okonomiyaki_ ** **,** Soba replied.  **They are like your savory pancakes.**

His waitress, a young woman that spoke with heavily-accented English, returned to his table. “Did you enjoy your meal?” she asked. 

“It was fantastic,” McCree said, adjusting his accent slightly so it wouldn’t stand out as much. “Thank you.” 

She murmured something back as she took his plates. McCree was more focused on Soba.  **I can sense her nearby.**

“Recap please,” he murmured into the lip of his bottle of Ramune. Even though they had gone over their target hundreds of times, Soba didn’t seem to be too bothered with repeating the information over and over again. In some ways he supposed that it knew very well that if he wasn’t comfortable or as knowledgeable of their  _ nezumi _ then the mission would fail. 

**Shimada Michiko,** Soba said instead of anything else it may have thought.  **A bastard of a lesser Shimada that had recently been legitimized.**

“A snake,” McCree suggested with a mirthless laugh. “Instead of a dragon.” 

Soba snorted derisively. It hadn’t told him why it was so morally opposed to Shimada Michiko, but regardless it was the meanest he had ever heard the usually patient and sweet-tempered dragon.  **She is not and will never be a dragon,** it hissed. 

“Does she have a spirit guardian?” McCree asked instead of teasing Soba further. 

**Yes,** Soba said, its mood becoming fouler. McCree risked reaching a hand down to where the dragon was curled around his waist.  **She is unworthy of it. A** **_kitsune_ ** **.**

“You gotta give me more than that,” he mumbled. 

Soba twisted beneath his duster as he paid for his food and stood.  **A fox. With two tails.**

“Can you take care of it?” The dragon’s claws pinched his side in reprimand. “Sorry darlin’, had ta ask.” He chuckled as he dropped his dark grey hat on his head. “Tell me about her guards.”

**All high-level Shimadas are guarded by no less than three bodyguards,** Soba said immediately.  **But she is a very low tier in the family hierarchy as a recently-legitimized bastard, even if she controls her own prefecture. Her bodyguards from the Clan, if she has any, will be subpar but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her own guards she hires separately.**

McCree grunted as he stepped into the street. Despite eating a large meal - even by his own standards - he strangely didn’t feel weighed down by the food; in fact, he even felt a little hungry. Soba had explained it vaguely as an unforeseen side effect of traveling with it. Hanzo’s sweet tooth and Genji’s snacking habits suddenly made a lot more sense. 

**But** **_yakuza_ ** **should have no reason to fear their own streets,** Soba added.  **So her bodyguards, if she indeed has any, should not have any reason to be particularly alert.**

“Feels weird to think that the Shimada Clan is still out there,” McCree murmured. “Even after we cleaned them outta Hanamura.”

**They are everywhere,** Soba snarled.  **The ancestral home and headquarters of sorts of the Shimada Clan was in Hanamura but the loss of the castle didn’t mean that their influence elsewhere had stopped. The head had been cut off but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t life in the rest of the body.**

McCree made a thoughtful noise as he stepped out of the restaurant. Checking the sun, McCree fixed his duster and vest, brushing his hands down his clothes as if to brush off imaginary flecks of dust and food. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered, adjusting his hat and duster and stepping into the street - right into a woman clad in a beautiful silk  _ kimono _ . “Oh!” he exclaimed. The attendant that held a bamboo parasol to shade her from the mild sun glared at her like he wanted to stab McCree with the wooden shaft. “I do beg your pardon.”

She was a pretty little thing, her face painted porcelain white with her long black hair pulled into an elaborate design on her head with a series of pins that looked like pearls and flowers. Her eyes were outlined in black and red accented her mouth and eyes, bright as blood. 

The woman took a long moment to look him up and down, raising an elegant hand when the man on her other side moved to draw his piece. “It’s quite alright,  _ gaijin _ ,” she purred and if he hadn’t known what the slur meant, he’d have thought it was a compliment. Her eyes were coquettish, the effect heightened with the sandalwood-scented silk fan she removed from her  _ obi _ to hide the lower half of her face. 

McCree tipped his hat to her. “Please,” he told her. “Allow me to make it up to such a lovely lady as yourself?” The woman lazily fluttered her fan as if thinking and he offered her his elbow with a bold and gallant bow. The man holding her parasol and the man on her other side looked like they hoped their stares would cook him where he stood. He shot a smug wink at the one holding the umbrella when she threaded her small hand through his arm.

Callouses from combat and a hard life rasped against his leather duster and beneath his waistcoat he could feel Soba shift angrily. He smiled. 

* * *

It had been a halfhearted thing for Hanzo to keep his official Overwatch communicator. He had the distress beacon he used on missions of course, but that couldn’t be tracked unless it was activated; the communicator itself was dangerous in that it might lead the team straight to him. 

Much to his surprise, Athena admitted when he turned it on on after he had run from the team that she was hiding the information for him - a personal request of one Jesse McCree. He had known that Athena was fond of the gunslinger, but to this extent? Still, he politely thanked her and tried not to think too hard about it. 

Still, he was surprised when he returned to his safehouse that the indicator light flashed with a new notification: a video from McCree. He eyed the communicator as he stripped down in the foyer, shoving his clothes into a bag to be disposed of later. Before returning to the room he had changed clothes in the forest and tucked the clothes into a donation chute to some charity or another he had seen on the side of the road. His “donation” had been padded by thrift store purchases to make it seem less suspicious than dropping off a long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and the bandana he had used to cover a portion of his face. 

Even after everything, he felt  _ dirty _ , covered in gunshot residue (however imaginary the sensation may be), sweat, and the ubiquitous dust of the half-abandoned town. He ducked into the bathroom for a quick shower, not emerging until his skin shone pink and shiny; Udon lingered behind to rinse the tub and get the bath running so that they could both relax and watch whatever McCree had sent. 

The first part of the video took his breath away as he watched, dripping and naked and chilly while he waited for the bath to fill. Udon drifted up to look at the screen over his shoulder. The smell of his “bath tea” filled the air - it had been a sort of joking gift from McCree:  _ you drink so much tea, why don’t you bathe in it? _ But his joking words hid the sincerity of the gift and the quality of the materials. It was something he prized and used on special occasions and now it added a sense of surreality. 

On the screen, Soba in battle form of glittering blue twined and twisted and fought against another spirit - a russet fox with two tails. The camera wasn’t the highest quality and seemed to have trouble tracking the bright flashes and flares of light that erupted with every strike of claw and fang. 

It ended just as dramatically as he expected: a booming roar, a much closer human cry, and Soba consuming the  _ kitsune _ . Though not as large as Udon, Soba was still a force to be reckoned with, especially for as young a creature as the  _ kitsune _ had clearly been. 

The camera flipped around to a man that Hanzo nearly didn’t recognize. If it wasn’t for the whiskey-warm drawl of “ _ heya darlin’ _ ” he wouldn’t have realized that this man with a blond moustache and goatee was none other than Jesse McCree. His usual getup was gone, replaced by a starched white shirt, a gold waistcoat, and a length of red silk like a cravat tied around his throat. 

Startled, Hanzo sucked in a breath as McCree continued, “ _ So I heard you and Udon’re having a bit of an adventure. ‘S you can tell...so ‘re me ‘n Soba _ .” As if summoned, the brilliant blue form of the spirit dragon, the last remnants of the  _ kitsune _ glittering through its transparent form in a purplish-brown mist, hooked its great jaws over McCree’s shoulders. “ _ Off, _ ” McCree told Soba with an affectionate laugh. There was the sound of quiet crying in the background. “ _ Gimme just a sec, darlin’, and we’ll get this old song and dance on the road, hm? _ ” 

The camera zoomed in awkwardly on McCree’s face as he fumbled with it though Hanzo could hardly complain. He swallowed hard as he carefully sank into the bath; Udon slipped into the water after him though not before it turned off the still-running tap before they overflowed the tub. 

Together they watched as McCree stepped back and revealed none other than Shimada Michiko, still in her  _ kimono _ , bound tightly to a chair. Her alabaster-pale makeup was running, clear tracks drawn on her face from her tears as she cried at the pain of severing the tie of her  _ kitsune _ . Perhaps there was some fear there as well. 

McCree winked at the camera. “ _ Jus’ for you, darlin’, _ ” he said with a roguish grin. Behind him, one of her guards stirred where they lay on the ground. As Hanzo’s heart leaped into his throat, McCree twisted and…

Some part of him knew that there was seriously wrong with him if he found all of this...endearing;  _ arousing _ . Udon said nothing though it bobbed its head in satisfaction and not just because another player left remaining in the hierarchy of the Shimada Clan was now...removed. 

**He is a good mate,** Udon told him, its whiskers tickling as it trailed across his back and shoulder. 

“Yes,” Hanzo murmured as he started the video again and watched Soba and the  _ kitsune _ clash and coil around each other in their deadly dance. He couldn’t even argue the phrasing now that they all knew that McCree could hear the spirits bound to him. “He is.” 

* * *

**Fighting**

**Good form,** Soba commented as they watched the video Hanzo sent them. 

McCree hummed absently and it nudged the book closer to his hand. Seemingly not noticing, McCree rewound the video and watched it again. 

_ I knew he could fight, _ McCree said faintly, remembering at the last minute that he didn’t even need to speak out loud to the dragon.  _ But… _

Soba grunted and carefully lifted the book in its jaws and nudged it closer to McCree. The man didn’t get the hint and restarted the video again.  **Yes, yes,** it said impatiently.  **We all know he can fight. But you know what would be more interesting? Dinosaurs.** **_Jurassic Park_ ** **. We know the dinosaurs are breeding but how? That’s the next chapter!**

Absently, McCree patted its head between its horns as if he couldn’t hear it. With the same hand, he rewound the video again before returning it to rest limply on Soba’s head. 

**It was a Gaussian curve!** Soba said, bobbing its head emphatically.  **They found 292 animals when they thought they only had 238! The dinosaurs were all supposed to be female but they’re breeding and the counts and they pulled up height distribution graphs to prove it!**

McCree hummed.  _ You know what happens, _ he reminded the dragon. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Hanzo flowed on screen, the perspective strange since it was clearly a camera strapped to his chest or some part of him but it was still remarkable. 

Even though he knew it was coming, his breath hitched when the camera cut, clearly edited to be sent to him, of Hanzo laying a noose around the neck of his target. 

_ There’s something wrong with me _ , McCree muttered, shifting where he lay on the bed. 

Soba, despite its lack of a malleable face that would be efficient for expression, clearly looked impatient and very much sick of McCree.  **You have a saved video,** it said.  **You need to sleep and we** **_always_ ** **read** **_Jurassic Park_ ** **before bed.**

Yes, there was something very clearly wrong with McCree other than a very unhappy dragon. He adjusted his pants as he rewound the video again and opened his messages. There was another video. It was soundless, clearly a security camera from a nearby building but despite it grainy, it still made his mouth dry. 

He jumped in surprise when Soba wiggled under the hand that held his communicator and shoved its face, glowing faintly with a few hints of gold in the base of its whiskers and in the depths of its very blue eyes, into his. When it spoke next, it was in a booming voice that rolled like thunder through McCree’s body. 

**YOU HAVE A SAVED VIDEO THAT YOU MAY USE TO BRING YOURSELF TO ORGASM...** **_LATER_ ** **. NOW, YOU SHOULD GO TO SLEEP.**

Soba paused and bobbed its head at him, noting the mortified flush that had spread across his face. It picked up the book in its jaws again and very gently rested it on McCree’s chest.  **But right now...you can read the next chapter of** **_Jurassic Park_ ** **to me. Dr. Grant and Dr. Malcolm were discussing the breeding of the animals in the park through their own safety measures. Dr. Grant stated at the end of the last chapter he believes that there are seven breeding sites around the island - I want to know how and why.**

McCree gave a strangled laugh and adjusted his sweatpants again, this time more self-consciously. After a moment to get over his mortification, he patted his chest and picked up the book.  _ Very well, O Great Dragon Spirit, _ he teased as Soba draped itself on its chest and down his side, its hind legs straddling one of his legs near his knee. It rested its head on his pectoral and let him wrap his arm around its side, burying his fingers in the mane along its spine. He opened the book to their last page and wistfully thought of the video on his communicator. 

Still, Soba was right. Tomorrow morning, while the dragon stood watch and he showered and got ready for the day, he could watch it again. 

He began to read,  _ The sky was growing darker…. _

* * *

**Nesting**

They continued to exchange videos and the occasional picture but if their communicators were civilian equipment, then they would most certainly be arrested given the...implications of their content. 

For every kill that McCree claimed he’d send, at the very least, a picture of Hanzo’s target with their mouth held open by a high-caliber rifle casing - sometimes two in the case of those that had spirits bound to them. Hanzo likewise followed the example: his targets were propped up with a noose around their neck.

In the end, nearly two months after he had set out to “chase” Hanzo, McCree was the first to break and followed Soba’s guidance to find his archer. Much to his surprise, he easily found the other man in, of all places, Dorado. Almost as soon as he landed he could hear Udon bellow,  **HELLO, MCCREE!**

_ Hello to you too, _ McCree said, smiling into his moustache as he unbuckled his seatbelt. It was remarkable that the staff and security at the airports and customs hadn’t caught him after only a small little change to his facial hair and signature costume, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

**They won’t catch you,** Soba said smugly.  **We will not let them.**

McCree chuckled openly, earning himself a few odd stares from the woman in front of him in the aisle of the plane. It was nearly another hour before he was able to get off the plane and through customs but it was worth it because Hanzo was there waiting for him. 

Despite knowing the physical changes the man had gone through, it was still stunning to see him standing in front of him. Gone were his traditional uniforms of loose  _ hakama _ pants and elegant  _ gi _ to be replaced with cargo pants, combat boots, and a wide-collared jacket. Most of all...he had sheared the sides of his hair short, with the rest of his long black hair tied in a neat topknot behind his head. 

Likewise Hanzo seemed just as surprised and for a long moment they stood there, McCree’s bags between them, while they stared at each other. “Oh!” McCree exclaimed and fumbled in his pockets for the box he had been toying with the entire plane ride. “Gotcha somethin’, darlin’.” He laughed nervously when his fingers found it in the inner pocket of his duster. “Well I gotcha somethin’ else but I don’t think it should be opened in the middle of the airport.” 

Hanzo flushed bright red and ducked his face into the wide collar as if to hide it. “I cannot tell if it’s simply inappropriate or if it is something vulgar.” 

Surprised, McCree threw his head back and laughed. When Hanzo reached out for the box, he reached in turn with his other hand for Hanzo’s waist and reeled him closer. “I had meant it as something...potentially illegal,” McCree murmured into Hanzo’s ear. 

He was pleased that Hanzo pressed a warm hand to his chest though didn’t push him away. “I feel like we have a lot of talking to do,” he murmured and McCree leaned forward to press their foreheads together. 

“Later?” McCree suggested. “Right now…”

“Yes,” Hanzo agreed breathlessly, letting his eyes flutter shut. McCree followed suit and they stood there for a long moment, basking in the other’s presence. 

They both twitched when they felt Soba move, sliding through clothing to return to its host.  **We continued to read** **_Jurassic Park_ ** **,** it told Udon smugly.  **Every night before McCree went to bed. We’re nearly done.**

**Not fair,** Udon grumbled.  **It sounds better with McCree’s voice.**

**It’s really good,** Soba continued as the two men chuckled quietly to themselves.  **I won’t mind if we read it again.**

Hesitantly, McCree opened his eyes and found that Hanzo was already looking at him. With a shy smile he tipped his head slowly, twisting slightly as their noses brushed…

**He pleasured himself a lot, though,** Soba said and both stiffened, their spines going rigid. Hanzo’s lips twitched though both of their faces were bright red.  **To some of the videos that Hanzo sent. He** **_really_ ** **liked his “fighting form”.**

Udon grunted.  **Hanzo did as well,** it grumbled.  **He liked the fit of that big jacket.**

**It’s called a** **_duster_ ** **,** Soba said, again sounding smug.  **McCree said so.**

For a long moment they stared guiltily at each other before simultaneously bursting into embarrassed laughter that drew concerned stares from passerby. “Now that the mood’s broken…” McCree said as Hanzo pulled away to hide his blushing face into his collar again. 

“Yes,” Hanzo agreed and bent to assist McCree with his bags. Their fingers brushed and McCree winked as he swung his duffel over his shoulder. “Shall we eat,  _ vaquero? _ ” 

McCree held a hand to his heart. “You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me, darlin’,” he drawled and winked. 

**He’s probably getting an erection,** Soba said.  **He did that a lot when thinking about Hanzo.**

Both men smiled awkwardly at each other. “Let’s just…”

“Yeah. We can deal with it later,” Hanzo agreed quickly and turned to walk away. “At the hotel room, perhaps?” 

McCree wheezed, nearly tripping over his own feet. “You dragons’re gonna be the death o’ me,” he grumbled, nudging Hanzo’s side with his shoulder. Twisting to look up at him despite his red, blushing face, Hanzo smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a side note, I’m aware that the Nesting section is a bit…misleading. In this case, nesting (also “spawning” but that sounded kind of creepy) is referring to returning to a comfortable place to settle down. The family part is implied. ~~(Did you know that humans have a nesting instinct too?)~~ It’s also just referring to the mating rituals in general where they exchange what they had done for each other. 
> 
> Also, I love the idea of unconventional books being read as bedtime stories. My dad used to read me _Moby Dick_ which in hindsight is probably not the best thing to read a 5 year-old but hey. It would explain a lot about me and how I turned out.
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone that has left kudos and comments. It always gets me so excited to see a new notification about them and your thoughts are always inspiring me to continue writing this. 
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> ~DC


	11. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zarya is won over toward the drunken shenanigans of two men just trying to have a fun date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A birthday present for that I wrote for [Lyall_Lupa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyall_Lupa/pseuds/Lyall_Lupa/works) last year.
> 
> Enjoy some smooches, implied frisky times, and less noodles than I had initially intended. Alternate titles as discussed:
> 
> Why McCree should never go anywhere unsupervised  
> Why McCree and Hanzo can never be trusted to go on a date  
> Why Hanzo and McCree were banned from Russia for a few months until the politsiya cooled down  
> I had originally set out to write a cute, fluffy story with smooches but…that’s not how it turned out. Instead this mess happened: 11 pages of Hanzo and McCree trying to explain exactly what happened the night before and only succeeding in making Winston regret everything. 
> 
> Oh, and Zarya finally showed up. She has the feeling that life with them is a lot like watching a soap opera so any reservations she has had about joining are pretty much gone now. Winston hates that she tells him this and hates even more that these two PR nightmares are actually the ones that had won her over.

##  **Tuesday, 11:45:55 Volskaya Industries, St. Petersburg, Russia**

The giant hulking woman that introduced herself as Sergeant Zaryanova crossed her arms disapprovingly. In many ways she had the face and expression of a grizzled war veteran from some old-style movie: her shoulders were wider than even Hanzo’s and a cross-shaped scar cut through her right eyebrow. Her hair was dyed pink; the sides were shaved.

_And here I thought that our night couldn’t get any weirder,_  McCree thought to Hanzo.

Hanzo cut a glance at him out of the corner of his eye.  _I’ve heard that the phrase “may you live in interesting times” is also a curse. Why don’t you use that as well?_  Smiling hurt, tugging on his bruised and split lips, but a little pain never stopped him.

The door behind Sergeant Zaryanova opened to admit Winston. They could audibly hear the low, wuffling breath he took and his wide mouth turned down in a frown.

_We smell_ terrible, Hanzo lamented.

_You still look as beautiful as ever,_  McCree assured him. Hanzo cut a glance at him out of the corner of his eye and kicked him under the table. “Heya Winston,” he said out loud and speaking hurt just about as much as smiling - probably worse.

Winston’s frown deepened. “Thank you Sergeant Zaryanova,” he said to the woman who grunted. “I apologize for the conduct of my agents.” He turned to McCree and Hanzo. “Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”

“In our defense,” McCree quipped before he could stop himself. “We were unsupervised.  _Ow_!” Hanzo’s face was innocent, as if he hadn’t just kicked McCree under the table.

Sergeant Zaryanova’s nose wrinkled and Winston sighed heavily, pulling his glasses off to clean them absently. “What happened?” she asked in a rough voice.

_Oh, Staples,_ McCree thought to Hanzo wistfully.

_Hush,_  Hanzo grumbled.

Winston eyed the seat across from them and moved it aside. He was large enough that even sitting he was able to comfortably look over the table at them. Placing the folder in his hands on the table, he curled his short hind legs under him and steepled his big hands in front of him. “Why don’t you start from the beginning? What happened at…” Winston frowned deeply at the paper in front of him.

“Ryboobrabatyvayushchiy Kombinat № 1,” Sergeant Zaryanova said helpfully.

“ _Gesundheit,_ ” McCree said cheekily and yelped when Hanzo kicked him again. “To be fair, we didn’t start there.”

Remarkably, Sergeant Zaryanova’s lips twitched as if she was hiding a smile. Winston sighed. “Yes. What led up to that?”

* * *

##  **Monday, roughly 18:58 Mama Lyga Restaurant, St. Petersburg, Russia**

“Y’ think Genji’s still watching us?” McCree asked, easily playing the part of the mooning date.

(It was far from being entirely an act.)

Hanzo’s lips curled as he brought his glass to his lips. McCree watched, unable to look away as he tipped his head back and drained the last of his expensive cider. He must have made a noise for as Hanzo’s throat bobbed enticingly, he looked down at McCree with hooded eyes.

Their waiter was a sour-faced young man that spoke with heavily-accented English. He was remarkably attentive but McCree was fairly certain that it was because he didn’t like them. “Can I get you another drink?”

Despite having finished an entire bottle of cider by himself, Hanzo smiled and ordered a glass of scotch. McCree tossed his own drink back while Hanzo ordered and when the waiter frowned disapprovingly at him, he ordered a glass of tequila he had noticed on their cocktail menu earlier.

“Think Genji’s still watching?” McCree repeated when the waiter had gone.

**_I_  don’t think it’s a date,** Ramen said with a disapproving sniff. There was clearly a conversation that neither of them could hear going on.

Hanzo smiled sweetly as he perused the menu. “I want to try some of their kebabs,” he told McCree. “They have lamb tongues and testicles.”

“Yuck,” McCree teased, rolling his eyes. “I saw they had a skirt steak. Wanna try some of that.”

“Why are you chasing skirt when you have me?” Hanzo purred with a smirk. His cheeks were flushed with alcohol.

McCree held a hand to his chest dramatically. “If we’re playing that way, darlin’,” he teased back, letting his voice drop lower. “I got better meat down here that you can wrap your lips around.” They held their expressions for only a few seconds before bursting out into peals of drunken laughter. Some of the other diners frowned at them.

When the waiter came back with their drinks, they placed their order for yet another round of food. Just to watch the waiter grind his teeth, McCree tangled his fingers with Hanzo.

**THEY ARE HOLDING HANDS!**  Ramen thundered.  **HOW ARE THEY ON A DATE? THEY DO NOT HAVE THE EMOTIONAL CAPACITY TO GO ON A DATE.**

Soba and Udon’s laughs rattled in McCree’s head. “Yeah,” Hanzo said dryly. “I’d say they’re still watching.”

“What a world,” McCree said with mocking regret. “Where two men can’t go on a date.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of prejudice about it here,” Hanzo murmured.

McCree was momentarily distracted by the amber liquid in Hanzo’s glass, of the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier sight,” he sighed.

“Flatterer,” Hanzo teased, his cheeks flushed with alcohol. Their hands were still tangled and Hanzo shyly squeezed his hand. “And they’re still watching, I’m sure.”

**WHY ARE YOU HERE?**  Udon thundered.

**Does it matter?**  Ramen snapped back immediately.

Soba wiggled along McCree’s side and he tried not to wiggle as its claws brushed along his sides.  **Do you think they were visiting the BDSM club?**  It asked and McCree reached for his glass to hide his laugh.

Before learning of the dragons and their incredibly invasive discussions, McCree had always wondered how Hanzo was so good at going undercover. Specifically, his acting skills. Now he knew and he wondered if those skills would rub off on him now that he pretended to not hear the dragons.

(He was fine if it was just Hanzo, though, and not those skills that weren’t quite as lovely as the man itself. As if sensing that thought – though he was fairly certain that the spirits hadn’t transferred it along whatever mental path they shared with their host – Hanzo smirked.)

**There is a BDSM club here?**  Ramen asked, something like excitement in its genderless voice. McCree realized a little belatedly what Soba and Udon were doing and threw his head back in a roaring laugh. Across the table from him, Hanzo laughed as well though not as loudly.

**They have gone,**  Udon said after a moment.

“Guess the idea of a BDSM club was too much of a pull,” McCree joked and Hanzo, clearly not wanting to dwell on it, Hanzo finished his drink. The waiter materialized at their table, placing down steaming plates of food and leaving with their next drink orders. McCree was too dazed to pay attention to anything other than the feeling of Hanzo’s hand in his, of the tangle of their ankles beneath the table, of the warm lights reflecting in Hanzo’s eyes.

In a past life, McCree would be kicking himself. Tangled fingers and ankles meant it was harder to get to his feet and defend himself - nevermind the fact that he was unarmed! Peacekeeper had been left in the safehouse, as Winston had warned them that it was Very Important that they not draw too much attention to themselves, most especially the politsiya.

Now, though…now all he could think of how Hanzo’s callouses caught against his, of the metal guards on Hanzo’s legs pressed up against his own ankles, of the way the lights sparkled in Hanzo’s eyes. How his damp lips widened into a comfortable smile, how the flush from all the alcohol they consumed - a frightful amount for anyone else - lit up the skin over his cheeks and under his eyes.

The waiter came back with their drinks and McCree blindly drank. Hanzo smiled, bringing his glass of sangria to his lips.

It had never been McCree’s cup of tea, his sense of taste dulled from years of chain-smoking like an old coal train, but watching the burgundy liquid subtly stain Hanzo’s lips it was something he wanted to try as well.

* * *

##  **Tuesday, 12:42:04 Volskaya Industries, St. Petersburg, Russia**

Winston looked pained and Hanzo was blushing bright red. The cuffs around McCree’s wrists clinked as he tried to gesture while he spoke.

Sergeant Zaryanova looked like she was hiding a smile.

“I…uh…so how did you get to…” Winston squinted at the map again.

The big Russian woman coughed delicately into her hand. “Is fish processing plant,” she said helpfully.

“Yes,” Winston said with a nod of thanks toward Sergeant Zaryanova. “How did you get there?”

“Oh,” McCree said breezily; Hanzo tipped his head back and took a deep breath as if to ask the heavens for patience. “That was because of Staples.”

Whatever they had expected him to say, it clearly had not been _that_.

“Staples?” Sergeant Zaryanova echoed in an oddly flat way that seemed to McCree - perhaps with a bit of wishful thinking - like she was biting back a laugh.

Hanzo sighed. “We don’t know his name,” Hanzo explained tiredly. “He had a nametag on but we couldn’t read Cyrillic.” As Hanzo spoke, McCree traced a П shape as high in the air as his cuffs allowed him.

“Hence, ‘Staples’,” McCree said smugly and shot a finger-gun at Winston who sighed.

“ _Then_  what happened?”

This time even Hanzo chuckled. “When?”

“You were at the restaurant for a date,” Sergeant Zaryanova prompted. “Or not; whatever. How did this ‘Staples’ get you to fish processing plant?”

Hanzo’s lips pressed thin and he tucked his head; McCree laughed outright. “We…uh…caused a stampede in the restaurant.”

* * *

##  **Monday, roughly 19:35 Mama Lyga Restaurant, St. Petersburg, Russia**

Between them they had ordered a pitcher of sangria for Hanzo and some kind of light Russian beer for McCree. It was truly a shame that McCree hadn’t the slightest idea what it was or what it was called.

Regardless, McCree sampled the sangria from Hanzo’s lips. The archer had somehow ended up in his lap but he was far from bothered by it; they fed sips of sangria and beer and bites of a sour cream cake Hanzo had insisted on trying to each other until the waiter returned with their bill, which they hadn’t asked for yet.

“Excuse me,” their waiter said and they both looked up. “You’re upsetting some of our other guests; we’d appreciate it if you would both leave.”

McCree frowned. “Pardon?” Hanzo asked in a tight voice that made his accent seem even more biting.

“You are upsetting some of our other guests,” their waiter repeated, enunciating each word. A part of McCree appreciated that he didn’t seem very intimidated by Hanzo but then again, this was Russia.

Still gripping Hanzo’s hips to keep him in place (and to hide a very embarrassing reaction to his proximity), McCree leaned back in his chair. Their waiter eyed him. “See,” he drawled as deadly and cocksure as he was in battle. He was proud that despite all of the alcohol he had ingested, he didn’t slur his words as much as he thought he would. “That’s what I was  _afraid_  you were sayin’. Sobs, you mind convincing him to give us a minute?”

As smoothly as if they had practiced it a hundred times, Soba wiggled up to his shoulders and peeled itself away from his skin. To anyone not used to it, it was a grotesque and terrifying sight: the material of his shirt fluttered and bulged before Soba began phasing through it, pulling its long body through.

The restaurant immediately fell into chaos as Hanzo’s head tipped forward and he pressed his fingers to his mouth to hide a laugh; he nearly head-butted McCree who didn’t even try to hide his drunken amusement at the reactions of the other diners.

**I can see why the dinosaurs stampeded in _Jurassic Park_ ,** Soba said as it tugged its hind legs free from McCree’s skin. It wiggled its hips and drifted into the air like a child’s balloon; much like a balloon, it was still tethered to the nape of McCree’s neck by its long tail.  **This is quite amusing.**

“Winston will not like this,” Hanzo told McCree as diners and waitstaff ran away from them.

Udon popped its head out of Hanzo’s back and looked around.  **Captain Ana Amari has a phrase she says often,**  it said gruffly.  **“Cannot take you anywhere.” It certainly applies here and to the both of you in general.**

With a rattling laugh, Soba wiggled at the end of its “tether” but made no move to break free completely.  **I am a dinosaur!**

**You are not,** Udon corrected, wiggling its shoulders free of Hanzo’s nice  _haori_ overcoat.

McCree groaned as Hanzo slipped off of his lap and got to his feet. “Let’s get outta here before the cops show up,” he told Hanzo regretfully. “I’d hate to find out how tough they are on us.”

**As if we would let anything happen to you,**  Soba informed him with a snort.

“Well, we can’t just go about killin’ servants of the law,” McCree pointed out. “’Specially if they’re just tryin’ to do their job.” He settled his coat over his shoulders and fumbled around for his gloves, trying not to wobble too much.

“It would have been nice to get dessert,” Hanzo said wistfully, pulling his overcoat on as well. The scarf Angela made for him for Christmas was already wrapped around his neck. In use it didn’t appear as lumpy or uneven as it really was, and that shade of blue looked nice against Hanzo’s skin.

_Really_  nice.

McCree was fairly certain it was deliberate.

“Darlin’,” McCree said with a laugh. “Y’ already had half a cake.” He leaned closer, the both of them wobbling with the weight of their inebriation. “N’ you’re more ‘n sweet enough.”

Leaning close, Hanzo stole another kiss and McCree chased the taste of sangria yet again. He had tried it straight from the glass and hadn’t liked it nearly as much as the way it tasted off of Hanzo’s lips. “Flatterer,” Hanzo purred, backing up a few steps to pull himself out of range. He continued to prepare to exit the warm restaurant for the frigid Russian winter.

“Think we have a quick sec to find a takeout box?” McCree asked, pulling on his gloves as he looked down at their plates of food. “Doubt they’d be lettin’ us come back anytime soon.”

Hanzo walked quickly to the service station and poked his head behind it. McCree was amused to note that he needed to brace a hand on the booth to steady himself. “I don’t see empty boxes,” he said, a little miffed. Udon had emerged enough to be able to peek over the counter at McCree. He made a finger-gun at it as it blepped. When Hanzo emerged, wobbling drunkenly, it was with two bundles tied up in plain bags.

“Mystery takeout?” McCree joked as he joined Hanzo.

* * *

##  **Tuesday, 13:01:12 Volskaya Industries, St. Petersburg, Russia**

Winston sighed heavily. “Wait…wait…so you…”

“Got drunk as skunks on good Russian alcohol,” McCree began.

Sergeant Zaryanova snorted. “Imported,” she corrected.

The cuffs clinked as McCree tried to tip his hat to her. Unfortunately the hat was probably at the bottom of the harbor but that was fine. It was still missing bullets from Hanzo’s courtship of him and he was due for a new hat anyway.

**You could find a much nicer one,** Soba said, speaking for the first time in a while. Both dragons had strangely silent, but maybe that was because McCree was hungover.

Or maybe still drunk.

McCree cleared his throat when Hanzo kicked his shin under the table again. He began ticking up his fingers. “Got drunk as skunks on good alcohol in Russia. Caused a stampede of diners because of glowing spirit dragons. Stole takeout food. Ain’t the best part though.” His counting fingers transformed into finger-guns, playing to his new audience since Winston was very clearly done with his shit.

There was a particular look to people that regretted some of their life choices. Winston wore that face now. “Continue,” the big Russian woman said, her nose wrinkling as if trying to hold back laughter.

* * *

##  **Monday, roughly 19:45 Mama Lyga Restaurant, St. Petersburg, Russia**

In the distance they could hear the eerie whoop of sirens. “I suppose we had better be going,” Hanzo said regretfully.

“10/10 would visit again,” McCree joked as they made their drunken, meandering way toward the kitchen and the backdoors. Word had reached even there – the aisle in front of the service station was empty and they could hear the sound of the grills and burners still going but couldn’t see any of the assorted staff behind the counters. At one station, black smoke was already starting to rise. “You know…if they didn’t arrest us first.”

As they ducked around toward the back door, they encountered a chef leaving the walk-in with a sealed tub of some kind of meat. Seeing them he paused but still looked woefully unimpressed at the two middle-aged men wobbling drunkenly in front of him while carrying bags of stolen take-out orders. Not even Soba and Udon, who had emerged enough out of its bindings on Hanzo to drift after them in the air like balloons, seemed to faze him though his eyes did linger a little longer on the faintly-glowing spirits.

McCree and Hanzo jumped when someone pounded on the door. “ _Politsiya!_ ”

The chef rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward the walk-in; as Hanzo meekly began to pass him to obey, the chef shoved the covered bin of meat into his arms. Seeing McCree hesitate, the chef rolled his eyes and jerked his chin again as if to say,  _I won’t tell you again, boy!_ McCree obeyed and the chef let the door, held open by his knee, fall shut with a quiet thump.

They could hear the chef open the back door and the police loudly exclaim to him in rapid-fire Russian. Muffled through the insulated door and the breathy roar of the motors, they could hear the chef tell them something.

**He told them he had been hiding in the freezer,**  Soba told them gleefully. Both dragons dipped back beneath their skins to extinguish their faint glow.  **No one else was there – whatever had happened, had happened in the dining room.**

McCree and Hanzo pressed their palms to their mouths to stifle laughter. Their new friend opened the door a few minutes later, shoving two oversized canvas jackets that had certainly seen better days at them. They smelled faintly of stale sweat and alcohol and though at first glance they appeared a dull gray-green, they realized that they were simply just that dirty. “Lost and found,” the man said gruffly in accented English. “Unclaimed for a year. Better than burning it.” He squinted at them and they obeyed the unspoken addition,  _don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to_. “Speak English, yes?”

“Yes,” McCree agreed meekly and the chef huffed. The battered nametag on his jacket said Пётр and McCree didn’t speak Russian or read Cyrillic so his drunken mind immediately labeled the man as “Staples”. He shoved another box full of more packed takeout boxes in McCree’s hands once he had slung the canvas jacket over his shoulders.

“Carry this,” he told them and handed another such box to Hanzo. “Won’t look for someone with takeout. Probably.”

Shifting his grip on the box, McCree tried to reach for his wallet but froze when Staples scowled at him. “Um…”

“Fuck this place,” Staples muttered. “Come back soon.”

And then he bustled off, muttering to himself in Russian. **Creative language,** Soba said appreciatively. **I don’t think most of that translates well.**

“Thank you,” Hanzo said and the chef gestured vaguely at them over his shoulder. “Um…”

“No one’s gonna believe this,” McCree said when they had safely closed the door behind them. The back alleyway was surprisingly empty.

Hanzo snorted.  _Let’s not push our luck,_  he said through Udon. See if you can keep up, cowboy. He took three steps and slipped on the ice still clinging to the shadows. Hanzo grunted when he hit the ground though he twisted out of the way of crushing his precious cargo, which steamed in the cold Russian air.

**Watch out for the ice,**  Udon said rather unhelpfully. McCree snorted.

* * *

##  **Tuesday, 13:35:32 Volskaya Industries, St. Petersburg, Russia**

Sergeant Zaryanova interrupted McCree’s story with a booming roar of a laugh that would certainly rival Reinhardt’s in volume.

“Sergeant,” Winston said, sounding pained. He looked very much like he was regretting every choice in life he had ever made in relation to Hanzo and McCree. “I sincerely apologize for any trouble they may have caused.”

That made Sergeant Zaryanova laugh even harder. She slammed an enormous fist on the table, causing some of Winston’s papers to flutter off the edge. “Caused  _me_  no trouble!” She said with a booming laugh. “Gave  _politsiya_  eyeful, though!”

Winston very slowly turned to look at her and then back at Hanzo, who was now bright red; neither he nor McCree were making eye contact with anyone else. “An ‘eyeful’?” Winston echoed, looking like he was torn between smiling and grimacing.

**Yes! An eyeful!**  Lord, that was Ramen.  **What kind of eyeful? How many eyes are that?**

Through the dragons, McCree could hear Genji say,  _Hush! That is not something you want to hear about!_

On the skin of his back and sides, Soba twisted grumpily. “Care to explain?” Winston asked, his nostrils flaring in amusement despite the stern tone of his voice.

“Not with my brother listening,” Hanzo said sternly.

McCree chuckled. “Or perhaps we  _should_  - in great detail,” he suggested. Soba wiggled down his flesh arm; it snapped through the aluminum cuff as McCree leaned in that direction to hide its presence. He chuckled. “Sit back, guys and gals, do I have a story for you! Spoiler alert: it has a lot to do with my dick and-” Hanzo’s hand shot out and covered his mouth.

It was amazing to see the play of emotions cross their face. Sergeant Zaryanova certainly looked frightfully excited but Winston looked properly wary. “No, that will not be necessary,” Winston said quickly. He looked at Sergeant Zaryanova. “Unless the sergeant has any objection.”

The big woman snorted. “I’d like to hear full story later,” she said after a brief pause. “Leave out no detail. As for now…I’ll speak to  _politsiya_. In the meantime…would be best to not visit Volskaya in a few months, _da_?”

“You got extremely lucky,” Winston told them severely as McCree dropped pretenses and used his prosthetic arm to break the other cuff.

McCree snorted. “Yeah,” he said before he could stop himself. “That’s why we got arrested - indecent exposure!”

Their team leader gave a gusty sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose - or would have if his simian face had such a thing. “Out of my sight,” he told them. “Fortunately we got what we came for  _without_  your assistance. As soon as Sergeant Zaryanova smooths things over with the local police, we can be off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” McCree said as Soba wiggled over his body. At that point he didn’t really care at all that Winston now knew of his connection with Hanzo’s dragons and clearly neither did Soba. It popped its head out of his shoulder and blepped at Winston who sighed again. “We got our spankin’s, chief. ‘Don’t do it again,’ an’ all.”

_Well I sincerely_ do  _hope you do it again_ , Hanzo told McCree through the dragons, putting his hand on McCree’s thigh under the table.

Winston peered at them suspiciously. “Begone,” he said tiredly. “When we get back to base, we can discuss your new…status.”

Grabbing Hanzo by the hand, McCree dragged him out of the interrogation room and down the halls. A few of the guards they passed heckled them but otherwise made no move to intercept them. Hanzo yanked him into a quiet courtyard nearby and pushed him into a small utility closet, sealing the door behind him.

“We catching up on what was interrupted, darlin’?” McCree grumbled, crowding into Hanzo’s space.

Hanzo held up a finger, the cuffs he had escaped dangling from them. His smirk was impish, wild, and suggested; McCree couldn’t help but shiver. He held out both hands, his wrists up. “Have I been  _baaaad_?”

* * *

##  **Tuesday, 14:06:55 Volskaya Industries, St. Petersburg, Russia**

What she had first thought was an omnic turned out to be a human in a robotic suit. Not that she had thought that Overwatch would be so foolish as to bring omnics into the heart of Russia, who still waged war with them, but still.

The man’s name was Genji - he was Hanzo’s brother.

And she found him drinking directly from an unlabeled bottle of Akim’s home-brewed vodka.

“What’s going on?” she asked Akim, who was watching Genji guzzle the bottle like it was water,  in their mother tongue.

Akim shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said in the same language. “He said he needed something called ‘brain bleach’ because he saw things he ‘can’t unsee’ so I said, how about vodka?”

Watching the other man, they both shook their heads. Akim’s vodka was legendary - it was better described as a  _transcendent experience_ , really. “The ride to their base will be interesting,” Zarya murmured. “I wonder if he’ll puke.”

“Weak,” Akim snorted. “Wonder what his ‘brain bleach’ is about?”

Zarya shrugged. “The  _politsiya_  picked up two men at the fish processing plant. They were… _enjoying themselves_ , if you know what I mean.” Akim gave a rough bark of laughter to show that he did indeed catch her meaning. “One of them is his brother. He probably heard more than he wanted to know about his brother’s sex life.”

“Ah,” Akim said. “Mind watching him? I’m gonna get another bottle of vodka for him. Maybe two - I think he needs it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!
> 
> On a side note, “Staples” name is actually  Пётр (more or less “Peter”). In a previous draft he had more of a part but otherwise he’s just a grumpy old man who is sick of everyone’s shit. Some of his behaviors and words are based on this story about a comedian joining the [Russian Mafia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paG1-lPtIXA) in college. 
> 
> Feel free to come and yell at me on twitter at [ClassyWastelandBread](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus) but I haven't been quite as active there. 
> 
> ~DC


	12. Smooching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree sometimes questions how his life has come to this: practicing his shooting with Soba and discussing synonyms of kissing. 
> 
> Specifically smooching. 
> 
> _Smooching._ Smooching _Hanzo_.
> 
> Ain't _that_ the weirdest thing he's heard from the mouth of a spirit dragon? Or perhaps _that_ was the weirdest thing - that speaking to a nonphysical entity was now more or less commonplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly how I had meant for it to come out but in the end I had to divide it into two chapters otherwise it’d be too long. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**Smooching means kissing,** Soba said, bobbing its head.

“Yes,” McCree agreed neutrally as he reloaded Peacekeeper with a motion made smooth by long practice. He took his time shooting though he could obviously do it faster and each bullet struck dead center of the bullseye.

The ancient spirit didn’t distract him, only speaking when he was reloading – a polite habit that McCree was appreciative of. It waited until he manually loaded each bullet and flicked the spent shells out of the cylinders before saying,  **Why are you not smooching Hanzo?**

McCree carefully reloaded and took aim; this time he shot the 10 ring, aiming for the black line itself. Distantly he could hear Udon as well – something that Hanzo had gently explained was more or less unavoidable. The voices of the spirits were not bound by distance the way a physical voice was, though it was possible to extend out of their “range”; when McCree and Hanzo had parted ways, the dragons could barely “hear” each other.

**Basic gun safety,** Udon said disapprovingly as McCree flicked out the used casings.  **And Hanzo is not near enough for him to smooch.**

“Firing,” McCree said out loud, feeling the thrum down his spine that indicated that Soba was passing his words on to Udon. This time he aimed at the 9 ring.

When he was done and reloading again, Soba drifted down around him and picked up one of the bullet casings in its awkward claws. It clattered against the counter in front of him as it slipped out of its loose grip and Soba landed on it like a hawk covering its prey.

“You get ‘em,” McCree told Soba with a chuckle, chambering the rounds and putting Peacekeeper down on the shallow bench in front of him. “Such proud and wise spirits,” he teased gently, scratching along Soba’s jaw. From nose to the very tip of its tufted tail it was longer than McCree was tall for all it only stood a little more than a hand off the ground…when it chose to use its legs, of course. Now it was able to arch its neck to meet his eyes.

Soba peered at him.  **Do not say that I am like a cat,** it said disapprovingly, nipping playfully at his fingers despite the gravity of his words.  **I am a dragon – I am older and wiser than you can comprehend.**

“I know,” McCree assured it after a quick check around the range to ensure that he was alone. “Wise and ancient being that you are. Ain’t nothing wrong with having a little fun now and then.”

A moment later Udon drifted through the wall, followed by Hanzo who took a more normal approach and used the door. (Unlike Genji, who would certainly have gone for a dramatic entrance and entered through the window despite it being down range.)

“Heya darlin’,” McCree said probably a little too-loudly, tipping his hat a little. It was ill-fitted over the bulky safety gear he wore, but it was better than getting tinnitus and having to be under Dr. Zeigler’s tender mercy overnight. He slipped the headphones off of his ears to hang around his neck and emptied the rounds from Peacekeeper. It didn’t seem like he would be shooting again anytime soon. “Come to join me?”

Despite being sort-of-dating for nearly two months, Hanzo still flushed when McCree used a pet name on him; he figured it was payback enough for Hanzo being well aware of McCree’s feelings for him through the dragons and not doing anything about it for nearly the entire year they had known each other.

**Such an unsophisticated choice of weapon,** Udon sniffed though it wasn’t as disapproving as it would have seemed.

“Hush,” Hanzo said out loud, cautiously approaching McCree.

McCree pointed a thumb at himself as he set Peacekeeper back down. “Who, me?” he teased. “Ain’t said nothin’ yet, darlin’.”

The archer scowled at him. “You knew what I meant,” he said gruffly.

**Are you going to smooch?** Soba asked.  **I don’t understand the point of it.**

“For someone not understanding it, you’re certainly a fan of  _ promoting _ it,” Hanzo hissed and McCree struggled not to laugh.

Udon bobbed its head as McCree reached for Hanzo – slowly, like one would reach for a nervous animal.  **Smooching is a way for humans to show affection,** Udon said as solemnly as a monk.

**I know** **_that_ ** **,** Soba huffed, tossing its head. Udon snapped its head forward and stole the shell casing from beneath its claws.  **Hey!** The larger dragon bobbed its head smugly and drifted slowly into the air.

**Then why are you asking about smooching?** Udon wanted to know as it alighted on the walls of one side of the cubicle. Its long tail hung down, nearly long enough for the tuft to brush the surface. It snapped it out of the way as Soba nipped at it.

Hanzo turned redder. “Who taught you that word?” he asked gruffly, crossing his arms across his chest nervously.

At the edge of the desk where it was clearly contemplating the spent shell casings on the ground around McCree’s feet, Soba craned its head to peer up at the men.  **Song Hana,** it said simply.  **_She_ ** **says that you should smooch.**

“You know how the team is,” McCree said with a chuckle, gently reeling Hanzo closer with an arm around his waist, having successfully caught himself a dragon. “I swear the walls of this base are held up by gossip!”

**Words alone do not have enough force,** Udon said from its perch.  **And these walls are held up by proper building practices and materials, not by words.**

Hanzo looked pained and as McCree opened his mouth to say something, something in Hanzo’s eyes stopped him. “Udon doesn’t understand your phrase,” Hanzo said pointedly and McCree smiled crookedly.

“Just a sayin, darlin’,” he murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from Hanzo whose cheeks darkened slightly.

**I don’t understand it,** Soba complained.  **Smooching. Kissing. Why do you say the walls are held up by gossip? It doesn’t make sense.**

Both men ignored the dragons. “You look ridiculous,” Hanzo said shyly, gently pulling the headphones off from where they were hooked around his neck.

McCree tipped his hat back with a casual smile and tucked Hanzo closer against his side. “I always do,” he teased, shaking a leg so the spur on his boot jingled.

To his glee, Hanzo ducked his head into McCree’s chest as he chuckled. “You do,” he agreed gravely as his fingers curled over the swell of McCree’s arm.

**Are they going to smooch?** Soba asked.

**HUSH,** Ramen thundered somewhere else. It was most likely lurking somewhere in the shooting range with Genji, spying on them like the gossip mongers they were.

McCree tipped his head forward in amusement, resting it against Hanzo’s forehead. Their noses brushed; Hanzo lifted his Stetson off his head and rested it on the bench where Soba curled smugly around it, careful to not bend the brim. “Is it always going to be like this?” he whispered.

“Pretty much?” Hanzo said with a breathless chuckle. His face was bright red. “Are we going to give them the satisfaction?”  _ Say nothing, _ he heard Hanzo tell Udon and Soba who huffed.

**Why are you fighting it?** Udon muttered.  **You should smooch. Smooching is good.**

Hanzo smiled shyly. “Smooching is nice,” he agreed, looping his arms around McCree’s neck.

“I can’t take them seriously when they say things like ‘smooching’,” McCree complained.

Udon huffed.  **Kissing is good for the health,** Soba protested.  **The act of kissing can release oxytocin, a calming hormone in the brain that can also trigger the creation of emotional bonds between humans and animals. There are also articles that indicate that kissing is a good way to boost the immunity of the participants through the sharing of bodily fluids!**

**I like the sound of “smooching” better,** Udon grumbled, to McCree’s surprise – it wasn’t typically one for such frivolous things.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Soba bob its head.  **BE QUIET AND LET THEM SMOOCH!** Ramen thundered. To McCree, it still sounded faint and a little echo-y.  **STOP INTERRUPTING THEM WITH YOUR SCIENCE THINGS!**

**SCIENCE THINGS ARE IMPORTANT!** Soba thundered back, tossing its head.

Hanzo wheezed, nearly head-butting McCree as he collapsed inward in laughter.  _ You’re interrupting things! _ Udon and Soba transferred Genji’s internal voice and McCree was momentarily surprised.

On the other hand, it explained  _ so many things _ . He kept that thought to himself, biting his tongue as he tried to hold back sympathetic snorts of laughter.

_ By all that is good and holy, _ Genji’s disembodied continued in mock annoyance.  _ Why did you have to get into a debate on Science Things? _

“Hey,” McCree said out loud before the bickering could continue. “Guess since the mood’s killed…y’ wanna watch  _ Jurassic Park?  _ Since you got the movies for Christmas?”

Unsurprisingly, Udon and Soba were excited by the prospect and darted away.  **YOU RUINED IT!** Ramen thundered from wherever it hid.

“Movie marathon?” McCree suggested into Hanzo’s ear. “If only to distract the kids?”

Hanzo shivered in his arms. “Depends where,” he teased. “In public or not?”

Twisting his head, McCree brushed Hanzo’s cheek with his lips in a not-quite kiss. “My room or yours?” he asked, letting his voice drop to feel Hanzo shiver again. He toyed with the belt loops of Hanzo’s sinfully tight jeans. “Or the common room? Seems to me we got a lot to make up for.”

When Hanzo looked up, his face was flushed bright red but his eyes and smile had a wicked glint to them. “Meet you in the common room, cowboy,” he said at a more audible volume – clearly for Genji, wherever he was hiding, to overhear. “After you clean up this mess.” He made a show of sniffing the air around McCree. “And shower,” he said, slapping both hands against the sharpshooter’s chest. “You  _ smell _ .”

Laughing, McCree let Hanzo slip out of his arms. “You weren’t complainin’ earlier, darlin’,” he teased and nearly tripped over a spent casing. “Shit.” Hanzo laughed as he slipped out of the door of the range.

“ _ You have it bad, Agent McCree, _ ” Athena’s disembodied voice teased from one of the speakers nearby.

McCree smiled, reaching for the broom nearby. “Don’t I know it,” he said with a sigh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I fool you? ;P
> 
> I may post a bonus chapter (eventually) about them opening gifts a few days after Christmas (postponed due to people not being present due to visiting family or having a mission). Not sure went but...eventually I guess. It’ll most likely be posted on my tumblr where most of the bonus chapters are posted.
> 
> As always, thank you to all of you that are leaving comments and kudos. I love hearing your thoughts and reactions!
> 
> If you want to see more blurbs, recipes, and all of the shenanigans that I get up to in my own head, come on and visit me at my tumblr, [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com)! I also post blurbs, sneak peeks, and bonus chapters there so feel free to stop by!
> 
> ~DC


	13. Dinosaurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Udon and Soba are nerds and Genji disapproves of Hanzo reading the books to the noodles. 
> 
> The team just tries to enjoy a movie but it doesn’t quite go as well as they intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place almost immediately after Smooching. Also references "[Jurassic Park Chili](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/169246147021/jurassic-park-chili)", which my dad and I used to make. 
> 
> With art done by [Lyall_Lupa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyall_Lupa/pseuds/Lyall_Lupa) \- so sorry for taking so long with this!

 

**WE’RE STARTING THE MOVIE WITHOUT YOU, MCCREE!** Soba thundered as McCree was stepping into the shower.

**Do you really think he could hear you?** Ramen asked, its voice just barely audible to McCree over the sound of the water.

Udon’s voice was much clearer:  **Why not?**

**Those two are the most emotionally-stunted humans I have ever met,** Ramen declared matter-of-factly.  **I doubt they would have realized the depths of their feelings for each other in such a short amount of time – at least enough to be considered mated and to be able to hear your speech.**

McCree laughed out loud as he scrubbed himself quickly. As many times as he had seen and read  _ Jurassic Park _ with Soba, he still enjoyed watching it and didn’t want to miss too much of it.

The dragons fell silent – most likely one or both of the Shimada brothers had quieted them or had distracted them with the movie.

**You look ridiculous,** he heard Ramen say later as he was drying off. There was no reply from either of the blue dragons so McCree shrugged and pulled on a pair of comfortable sweatpants and an old Overwatch shirt he had found in a dusty corner of Storage.

By the time he reached the common room the movie was in full swing and the group was just arriving at Jurassic Park.

“Did I miss anything good?” he joked as he vaulted over the back of the couch. Hana, Lucio, Mei, and Genji had recreated the blanket fort from a few weeks ago, freeing up most of the couches and loveseats in the room. Hanzo and his dragons were taking up the one remaining couch whose cushions hadn’t been stolen.

McCree had to pause when he saw them, holding a hand to his mouth to keep the laughter at bay. “Do you like it?” Hana asked around a mouthful of popcorn. “They took some time to get here – it got stuck somewhere and was delayed by a snowstorm somewhere so it didn’t make it in time for Christmas. I got the idea after our sleepover.”

“I need a beer,” McCree said with a strangled sound as he climbed back over the back of the couch. Hanzo clicked his tongue chidingly at him. “Anyone want?”

Soba followed after him, wiggling its legs as if it were swimming through the air.  **Do you not like it?** It asked plaintively.

Counting the raised hands, McCree booped Soba on the nose when it scrambled across his shoulders. “Don’t you look adorable,” he teased, tickling the dragon’s dewlap before he ducked into the refrigerator to tug out a few six-pack bottles.

**I am not adorable,** Soba protested as McCree pretended not to hear.

**I am a Triceratops,** Udon declared from where it was perched on Hanzo’s head. It bobbed its head smugly, dewlap extended as far as the strap beneath its hat-like costume would allow. The stuffed frill and horns there, which emulated the titular horns of a Triceratops, wobbled comically.

McCree tossed the bottles to those that had requested them and settled back on the couch with Hanzo, letting Soba climb along his body until it was positioned to its liking. It perched on his knee, its cool body resting on his thigh and its tail curled to the side. Settling within his peripheral vision meant that there was no way that McCree could ignore the little green and yellow felt costume that it wore.

Clearly, like Udon’s “hat”, it was a pet costume that had been repurposed – for the greater good, McCree was sure – though this one was a Stegosaurus rather than a Triceratops.

“Too cute,” McCree told Hana.

**THEY LOOK RIDICULOUS,** Ramen boomed from where it was tangled up with Snowball.

Udon and Soba bobbed their heads smugly at the green spirit.  **You are just jealous,** Soba told it.  **Envy is not a virtue that should be cultivated!**

It was difficult to keep a straight face at that so McCree thumbed off the cap of his and Hanzo’s beers and hid his smile with the mouth of the bottle. The brothers didn’t even pretend, wheezing in laughter as the dragons bickered amongst themselves.

They were all shushed by Mei and they returned their attention to the movie. 

**In the book they had motion-detecting cameras that would track the animals,** Soba said smugly.

Across the room, Genji groaned. “Hanzo!” he complained. “You turned them into monsters! You’re such a dork!”

Hanzo scowled. “There is nothing wrong with reading.”

“Reading the books and watching the movie?” Hana asked, shoving a huge handful of popcorn in her mouth. “No, that was McCree.” Surprised, Genji looked at her. “Yeah,” she continued without looking away from the screen. “He reads the books to them like bedtime stories. It’s nice to hear – put me right to sleep.”

Lucio looked between them in surprise. “That’s adorable!”

“The books  _ are _ rather dense,” McCree admitted and tugged teasingly at the tip of Soba’s tail. It twisted its head and extended its dewlap in a playful warning. When he stuck his tongue out at the dragon it replied in kind, its fat forked tongue drooping out of its round snout.

“OMG,” Hana squealed from across the room. Genji rescued the bowl of popcorn before it spilled all over their blanket fort. Lucio fumbled with his phone and made a disappointed noise when Soba stopped by the time it was aimed at it. “Do that again! That was  _ adorable _ .” 

Soba wiggled its whiskers and curled its claws under its body like a large, spoiled cat. It returned to watching the movie, sitting as still and somber as a statue. Laughing, McCree scratched his fingers along its spine, tangling the tufts of its golden mane, and leaned back in his seat.

“What did it say earlier?” Mei asked hesitantly. “I haven’t read the books in so long.”

Sensing someone that may be interested, Soba and Udon bobbed their heads at Mei.  **They had motion-sensors all around the park,** Soba said excitedly.  **And a computer system that would interpret the data that they picked up into a list of animals. They could type in the number of, say, Maiasaura and after a moment to computer, the computer will compare the number of Maiasaura they found to the number they picked up on the sensors in the park.**

Now Ramen seemed more interested, its ears pricking forward. It still seemed disapproving but it had craned its head toward Hanzo’s dragons.  **That is a good idea,** it agreed grudgingly as Hanzo translated for Mei.

**The problem was that they only searched for the numbers they wanted to see,** Udon said gruffly.  **So if they only expected 20 Maiasaura, the computer stopped searching after 20 because that was all that was requested. When they realized that the dinosaurs may be breeding, they put in much larger numbers than expected to see just how many animals they really had.**

Mei frowned and they paused the movie on Dr. Grant’s shocked face as he stared out of the Jeep. It wasn’t flattering but McCree figured it could be forgiven as the movie wasn’t exactly meant to be paused at that moment. “I think I remember that,” she said hesitantly. “And they had a lot of dinosaurs that they didn’t really show or mention in the movie.”

Across the room, Genji groaned and Hana threw a handful of popcorn at him. “This is so  _ boring _ ,” he complained, swatting the kernels away in midair. The benefits, perhaps, of cybernetic enhancement. McCree saw Hanzo swallow the thought and casually rested his arm around Hanzo’s shoulder, ostensibly to scratch at Udon’s nuchal crest the way it liked. Subtly, Hanzo leaned into his shoulder but the motion wasn’t lost on Genji who frowned at the both of them; McCree shot him a mocking finger-gun and the ninja narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

**The book is very dense,** Udon agreed.  **But it offers a lot more detail than what the movie was able to offer. I think it would be very interesting thing to see an adaptation that was more or less exactly like the book.**

Soba twisted its head to look at Udon.  **That wouldn’t sell,** it pointed out.  **It would be a side project for the pleasure of moviemaking. The changes made to the movie adaptation of** **_Jurassic Park_ ** **were more to make it appealing to viewers. That was how Mr. DNA was created after all – they needed an easier way to explain the science of cloning extinct animals and how the animals were created without having that much boring exposition. Even then, they left information out.**

There was a long pause as Hanzo translated. “That makes sense,” Mei said thoughtfully. “And movies are working on budgets so minor storylines are more difficult to render.”

Impatient, Ramen threw its head back, its ears pressed back.  **CAN WE JUST WATCH THE MOVIE?** It demanded.

Genji groaned. “Can we just watch the movie?” he echoed. “This is  _ bo-oring _ . You can talk your nerd science later.”

Chuckling, McCree played the movie and absently shushed Soba, tickling its ears with his fingers until it playfully nipped at them.  **I never understood this scene,** Udon said absently, coiling its tail around McCree’s other arm and draping the tuft at the end over his opposite shoulder.

**Also, I’m not sure that Brachiosaurus had a vertical neck,** Soba said, bobbing its head.  **Can you imagine the kind of heart it would need to get blood all the way to the brain? Or what kind of lungs and diaphragm just to breathe like that?**

Udon bobbed its head in agreement and it was a struggle for McCree not to laugh as Dr. Grant declared that the Brachiosaurus was clearly a warm-blooded creature.  **I don’t know how he could tell that just by looking,** it sniffed.  **But consider this: many thought that dinosaurs were based on lizards - hence the name “terrible lizard” - which would imply that they would have a three-chambered heart. However, I would think that especially in an animal like Brachiosaur or the other ones with long necks they would have a four-chambered heart – they’re more efficient, after all. Perhaps a good analogue for them would be a giraffe.**

**YOU ARE RUINING THE MOVIE!** Ramen thundered, interrupting whatever else Udon was about to say.

After a disapproving glance, the two blue dragons ignored it.  **There are other schools of thought that imply that Brachiosaurus, Apatosaurus, and other long-necked dinosaurs didn’t have their necks vertical at rest,** Soba pointed out.  **It would be implausible to have such large hearts and lungs to push blood that far on a long-term basis. Some believe that their necks are naturally level with their tails and they only raised their necks for short periods of time if at all…but can you imagine what kind of energy expenditure that would be?**

“Shh!” Genji hissed from across the room. “You’re ruining the movie.”

Udon and Soba bared their teeth at Ramen and Genji and bobbed their heads disapprovingly but they did sullenly fall silent. Smiling, McCree gently rubbed his knuckle along Soba’s jaw the way it liked. “I doubt it,” he whispered to Soba who threw him an awkward smile. It playfully nipped at his fingers before returning its attention to the movie.

This time it was Lucio that interrupted. “So I know they explained how the dinosaurs were made and they explain that in the movie,” he said. “But how did the  _ plants _ get there?”

Genji groaned out loud and Soba bared its teeth, bobbing its head excitedly.  **_In the book_ ** **they discuss that the plants found on the island were transplanted from other regions around the world such as the Amazon basin and other rainforests around the world that had similar plants if not the very same ones that had somehow survived since the Cretaceous.**

On Hanzo’s shoulders, Udon snorted.  **Dr. Sattler has a brief monologue about it – she wasn’t actually very happy to find a lot of the plants there because a lot of them were extremely poisonous. She briefly brings it up later in the movie but in the book her upset is much more evident.**

They took a break as Hanzo translated and fell silent as the movie continued. “Can the dinosaurs even eat the plants on the island?” Mei wondered, making Genji groan again. She blushed and sank down in her corner. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Way to be an ass, Genji,” McCree drawled. Genji groaned and then yelped when Ramen nipped him. It drifted over to Mei and draped itself over her shoulders, curling its tail for Snowball to join them which it did with a pleased warble.

To McCree’s surprise, Udon and Soba joined in, their ears flattened.  **APOLOGIZE TO HER,** they thundered in unison. Somehow it made their voices pack more of a punch and it was only by virtue of hiding behind Hanzo’s bulky shoulders and Genji’s flinch that the younger Shimada didn’t notice McCree doing the same. Hana did but didn’t say anything and stuck her tongue out at him when she saw him looking at her.  **DO NOT BE RUDE, SHIMADA GENJI.**

“I’m sorry Mei,” Genji said meekly. McCree was surprised; he wouldn’t have thought that the other man would have obeyed so quickly. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Mei curled a little tighter around Snowball. “I forget sometimes that I’m not with my team,” she admitted in a small voice. Ramen glared at its host, flaring its whiskers as it snarled silently. “It was something we used to do a lot.”

Leaning over, McCree paused the movie again as Dr. Grant held a newly-hatched Velociraptor in his hands. Once more the movie was paused in an awkward place, freezing his face in a twisted expression. “No reason to be sorry,” McCree said. “Genji’s just being an ass.”

**She is a climatologist, isn’t she?** Soba asked.  **I’m interested to hear what she thinks of the climate change associated with the K-T Extinction event and some of the more recent climate shifts.**

“Another time,” Hanzo murmured quietly to Soba. It huffed but didn’t sound particularly torn up about it. To Mei, he said, “This is a recreational movie and by no means mandatory. If people are upset by the conduct of others, they can simply leave – especially since Genji’s initial reason for being here was to pry more into my personal life than I would readily tell him. He really has no interest in the movie – just in being an ass, as McCree says.”

Genji scowled at him but didn’t refute it. He huffed. “Yeah, I’m just being an asshole,” he grumbled. “I’m just not used to people talking so much during a movie.”

**You’re just frustrated because you don’t understand half of what is being discussed,** Ramen said, bobbing its head.

Hana patted the seat on her other side. “Come here next to me,” she said with a cheeky grin. “ _ I’m  _ curious – you can whisper it to me if you want. Then Genji won’t complain and we all get to be happy.”

“Or you can sit between me and Hana,” Lucio suggested, moving over to make room. “You can whisper it to us both and then we won’t bother Mr. Grumpy No-Pants over there.” Shyly Mei obeyed, shooing off her attendants so she could move. It put Lucio near Hanzo’s legs and Udon wiggled down to the arm of the sofa like a curious cat. When Snowball drifted up toward the dragon, it snorted and retreated to Hanzo’s lap, much to the droid’s disappointment.

Before more of an argument could break out, McCree played the movie again, which distracted Genji and the dragons. Out of the corner of his eye, McCree saw Hanzo offer Mei a soda over Lucio’s head from the cooler at their feet, which she shyly accepted.

“Do we ever learn why the Triceratops was sick?” Genji asked later, much to everyone’s surprise. He shrugged when everyone looked at him. “It’s just about the only thing I remember from this movie. I had always wanted to know what happened to the Triceratops and why it was sick. Was it poisoned? Did it get better?”

Hana hummed. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think I remember that part,” she admitted and tilted her head to look at Soba and Udon. “Do either of you know?”

It wasn’t the first time anyone had addressed them directly, but it always seemed to both please and surprise them.  **Gastroliths,** Udon said simply as if that explained everything.

“ _ Gastro _ for ‘stomach’ and  _ lith _ for…‘rock’?” Mei guessed when Hanzo repeated the word.

Soba bobbed its head.  **Gastroliths are rocks used by animals that don’t chew their food,** it explained as Hanzo translated.  **They’re also called gizzard stones. An animal will swallow these rocks whole and store them in their stomach. As they eat, the vegetation will be ground up between them. The animals will eventually spit them back out and find new ones. Dr. Sattler finds one of these piles of rocks which leads her to her conclusion.**

It paused as Hanzo finished relaying that. “What do the gastroliths have to do with a sick Triceratops?” Hana wondered.

**When the dinosaurs spat up their gastroliths, they’d have to look for new ones,** Soba explained, bobbing its head excitedly.  **They’d find some in the middle of the West Indian Lilac bushes and accidentally ingest some of the pods and shrubs with it even though they wouldn’t deliberately eat the West Indian Lilac on their own. They only got sick every once in a while because that was when they were finding the gastroliths.**

There was a long moment of silence as they all processed that. On screen, thunder crashed. “I wish they’d explain that,” Hana complained. “But I guess they had to cut that because it’s not as interesting as dinosaur rampages.”

“It works better as a fun fact,” Mei agreed quietly.

**You’d think it would play a larger part,** Ramen grumbled.  **Considering it’s the first part of their group splitting up.**

They fell silent again as the movie progressed. More of the team joined them at different points: Fareeha and Angela brought more blankets and pillows from Storage and Ana and Reinhardt made a large batch of cookies that they shared with everyone. Lena had arrived and to everyone’s surprise Torbjorn did as well, taking Hanzo’s old seat with a grumble as his feet were too short to reach much further than the edge of the cushion. Leaving Udon and Soba to enjoy the movie from their perches, McCree and Hanzo moved into the kitchen to begin preparations for dinner.

“I was thinking chili tonight,” McCree murmured. Behind them, the T-rex roared as it escaped its enclosure.

Hanzo bumped his hips into McCree’s thigh. “I was wondering why we left so early,” he murmured back.

“A good chili takes time,” he said. “And I make multiple batches for those of us with dietary restrictions.” He winked. “You thinking of helping me, darlin’? I could use someone with your knife skills.” There was a full-body flinch from Hanzo and McCree was quick to wrap an arm around his waist to reel him closer. “You  _ know _ that’s not what I meant,” he murmured into the shaved sides of Hanzo’s skull.

Hanzo trembled in his arms for a bit before pulling back slightly. As they parted, the dragons drifted over to twine around them. The overall effect was ruined by their costumes but it made Hanzo smile nonetheless. “It’s fine,” he mumbled and nervously scrubbed his hands on his jeans. “What do you need me to do?”

Pressing a final kiss to Hanzo’s forehead – one that was missed by Ramen and Genji, who were wholly engrossed in heckling Dr. Grant and Lex on their climbing skills – McCree let him go at last. “I need you to find me the ground beef and tofu in the fridge,” he said. “I’ll get the canned stuff and the vegetables.”

“What are you  _ doing? _ ” McCree heard Hanzo ask as he turned away. He turned again to find Soba and Udon tugging at the door to the freezer with their tiny talons. McCree watched as Hanzo opened the door for them and they began tugging on one of the freezer bags in there. “ _ Oh _ .”

Strangely enough, the dragons said nothing as they swirled in dizzying arcs around Hanzo. “What’s up?” he asked quietly, stepping back toward Hanzo.

It was a bag of frozen edamame in Hanzo’s hands. “Edamame,” Hanzo whispered as the dragons drifted back to the sofa where they perched. Soba, McCree was pleased to see, draped its tail over Mei’s shoulders. “It’s not a lot, but it does have lysine in it.”

After a moment to make the connection, McCree put a fist to his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Because the dinosaurs are lysine-deficient; I gotcha. I can use those to replace some of the beans,” he said quietly, tapping his chin as he thought. “Maybe instead of beef, see if you can find ground turkey instead. I think I saw some there when I was checking earlier. For the Velociraptor,” he added when Hanzo looked confused. Then he modulated his voice – still as quietly as he could manage to keep it a surprise from the rest of the group – to mimic a kid’s mocking voice. “ _ That doesn’t look very scary. More like a 6-foot turkey! _ ” This time it was Hanzo that hid his laugh as he tucked the bag of frozen edamame into the sink to hide it from prying eyes.

The endeavor took all of the large pots they had and what was, according to Hanzo, a ridiculous amount of peppers and spices. Still as they handed it between movies (spicy with tofu to Mei, Torbjorn, Ana, Reinhardt, and Lucio, spicy with meat for Hana, Genji, Fareeha, and McCree, and mild with meat for Hanzo, Lena, and Angela) everyone appreciated their humor.

For a good half of the next movie the only sounds were the clinking of spoons as everyone ate. Eventually Ana and Reinhardt brought over the stock pots, folding the musty sheets from Storage under the still-warm pots to keep it from doing too much damage. It allowed everyone to remain seated and not have to move very far to continue eating.

By the time commentary started up again, everyone was in too good a humor to protest. Ana had the idea of turning on subtitles, allowing everyone to follow along even if people were arguing. Tucked into a corner (because Torbjorn, Ana, and Reinhardt had stolen their couch), McCree let Hanzo sit between his legs and wrapped his arms around the archer beneath the blanket with a contented sigh.

Just as McCree was about to nod off, lulled despite the screaming and shouting from the movie on the screen by the gentle buzz of conversation and the warm press of Hanzo’s body, he heard Udon and Soba thunder,  **THE BOOKS ARE BETTER.**

**YOU ARE RUINING THE MOVIE,** Ramen thundered back.

Hanzo groaned in his arms and his tattoo flared as he recalled Soba and Udon; their costumes fell to the ground, empty. “That’s enough of that,” he mumbled and tipped his head back against McCree’s shoulder.

It didn’t stop the dragons from bickering and McCree knew better than to point this out, so he hummed his agreement and tugged Hanzo tighter to his chest. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people have mentioned that there isn't really a solid timeline that goes on here...originally it was only going to be a series of little shorts but clearly it has evolved from that haha. Still, it's a thing that has been bugging me a bit as well so from now on I'm going to try and give some idea of where in time the chapters take place. For the most part though, it'll keep the order I have here otherwise I'll move the chapters around so that they'll fit. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone leaving comments and kudos. I really do like to hear your thoughts on the story and how it's progressing! Feel free to visit me on tumblr at [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com) \- you can find blurbs, bonus chapters, thoughts, and the occasional recipe!
> 
> Thank you! 
> 
> ~DC


	14. Email

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo’s dragons enjoy math and science and engineering but Ramen is a little strange and enjoys…art.…we’re just going to go with “art”. 
> 
> In which Ramen and Angela are BFFs, McCree is a noodle whisperer, Angela is very much an enabler that has little to no shame, and Ramen is given email access and access to the internet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of got away from me but I thought it’d be fun to explore Ramen and Angela’s relationship since it has been very Hanzo-heavy. 
> 
> Inspired in part by [conversation](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/169250443656/ohayokuroneko-replied-to-your-post-honored) with Lyall_Lupa.

 At this point, Angela wasn’t too surprised to find Ramen draped over her body when she woke up. Clearly their luminescence was optional because it was as dull as the contraband iguanas her roommate in medical school had kept, possibly in hopes of not disturbing her.

“ _Guten morgen_ ,” she mumbled to it, flopping a hand tiredly along the bed until she found a part of its cool body for her to pet; it purred, half-lidding its gold-orange eyes contentedly despite the half hearted nature of her petting. Switching to English since she wasn’t sure that the spirit could understand German, she asked, “Does Genji ever notice that you’re missing?”

Ramen bobbed its head though if it was meant in answer to her question she could never be sure.

“Not that I’m complaining,” she continued. “I don’t mind seeing you so often but it makes me wonder sometimes.” Ramen nipped at her playfully. Unfortunately due to the way it was lying over and on her, it only succeeded in pushing its nose into her breast. “You perv,” she muttered halfheartedly, shoving its head away. “Alright, I’m getting out of bed.”

Ramen bobbed its head again and drifted in the air after her, following her into the bathroom until she shooed it out. It scratched at the door and wiggled the door knob – just once each to prove a point – before presumably wandering away.

When she finished showering and getting ready, Angela found Ramen curled up like an enormous snake on her bed. It had clumsily tried to make it for her before giving up. Seeing her, it drifted over and coiled around her neck and torso like a bandolier as she tugged the sheets straight and flat.

Breakfast was a simple affair: an apple, a fried egg, and some of the chili that McCree had made the night before that she took with her to her office. Drifting after her with its claws paddling through the air as if it were swimming, Ramen dropped a banana in front of Lucio’s door; she winced, knowing that the banana would be badly bruised from a meter-high drop…if it survived intact after Lucio left his room. An offering of an orange was more gingerly placed in front of Hana’s room and a single grape at Ana’s. Hanzo and McCree each got half of a cherry and Angela didn’t want to consider what that may mean.

Why the dratted creature did such things, Angela would never know but she had long since given up trying to dissuade it. It got to the point where she would simply carry the extra offerings to prevent further accidents. Ramen would become upset if she broke or cut the cherry for it so she’d carry a tissue with her to wipe the juice from its mouth and talons.

Their morning wanderings done, Angela locked herself in her office, ate her breakfast, and sat down to do her research.

Her first patient of the day was Lucio, who had tripped over the banana. He was pretty sure that he didn’t require stitches but he just wanted to check with her to be sure. After cleaning the wound and giving him a few butterfly bandages to close the gash, she sent him on his way though she did wonder why he tripped over it knowing that Ramen dropped off a piece of fruit in front of his door almost every morning.

She wasn’t _too_ surprised that her next patient was Genji. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were doing this on purpose,” she quipped with a hint of ice in her voice.

“Not at all,” Genji assured her meekly, eyeing Ramen where it was curled around her half-eaten bowl of chili. It stuck its tongue out at its host and wiggled the forked ends mockingly. “Ramen doesn’t tell me what you do here,” he added even though Angela had never asked. “I’ve tried.”

His panels were stuck together and there was dirt, grass, and neon fibers in the inner workings of his joints. She didn’t _want_ to know why and so ignored it except to consider how to clean everything out. “Armor off,” she told him briskly.

“You should buy me dinner first,” Genji quipped, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

He caved under Angela’s unimpressed stare and began stripping off his clothes. As he began unlatching the plates of his armor, Angela sat down at her desk and resumed eating her leftover chili, watching him. “It always tastes better the second day,” she told Ramen and it bobbed its head as if agreeing, its ears pricked curiously toward her.

(She knew for a fact from McCree that the honored spirits couldn’t and didn’t eat; neither could they taste so it was somewhat of a foreign concept to them. Ramen seemed to be fascinated when she described flavors to it, so she had developed somewhat of a habit of doing so when she thought about it.)

“I feel abandoned,” Genji said plaintively, crossing his arms carefully over the exposed panels of his chest as if hiding his nudity. “Forgotten. Woe!”

“If you truly felt so abandoned and forgotten, you probably wouldn’t have left ‘meditation’ with Zenyatta,” Angela said absently, scraping the bowl for the last of the chili. Ramen bared its teeth in an attempt at a human smile, flared its whiskers, and bobbed its head. Genji made a strangled noise as Angela put her bowl down and brushed imaginary crumbs from her lap. “I’m surprised you can still blush,” she said absently. “Now hop on the table, _ja_? I have a lot of work to do.”

“Use cuffs next time,” Angela suggested an hour later as Genji fled from her office. She rubbed her fingers on the scales above Ramen’s subtympanic shield the way the dragon liked and it leaned into her caresses. “Tell your host that nylon rope doesn’t work so well in his joints,” she added. “Zenyatta should know better. Also, recommend that they not use red because it clashes with his running lights.”

Ramen bobbed its head, baring its fangs as it tried yet again to smile. It wiggled its head in a way that she interpreted as amusement – like it was laughing. McCree once told her that the laugh of the honored spirits sounded like a box of metal nails or bolts rattling around in a wooden box so in a way she was glad that she couldn’t hear their voices.

They settled into their routine again: Angela doing her research and peer review and Ramen fiddling with an old terminal in the back corner. It had been toying with it for the past few days it visited her and if anyone needed any confirmation of their intelligence, then there it was: even though Ramen’s talons weren’t quite meant to move like a human hand, it could use tools – like an abandoned stylus – to compensate.

Finding a break in her review, she leaned back in her chair and watched the honored spirit toy with the terminal. It was glowing again, casting a gentle green light that was reflected in the surfaces around it. It reminded her very much of Genji’s own lights. With the stylus held delicately in its jaws, Ramen very carefully typed into the old analog keyboard. As she watched, it put the stylus down and touched the ancient wireless mouse with a talon. It very carefully moved it around and there was a soft click as it pressed one of the buttons; on the terminal a new window opened.

“Maybe that’s not the best terminal for you to use,” Angela mused and Ramen twisted its head like an owl to look at her. “I’m still waiting to be creeped out by seeing you do that but I can’t help but think you’re still just too cute,” she added.

McCree had said that any “facial expression” the dragons showed would be in the soft skin around their eyes and in their whiskers, jaws, and ears. Now the skin around Ramen’s eyes crinkled and it tossed its head as if to say, _I am not cute_ – a sentiment that McCree told her was repeated often by the spirits.

“Let’s find you a touch-screen terminal,” Angela decided. “And we can see if we can adjust the keypad for you to be able to type easier.” Ramen lifted into the air as if gravity no longer applied to it and “swam” over to her, paddling its legs until it could slip comfortably around her neck. “Are you going to embarrass Genji with what you’re researching?”

The dragon twisted its head to look at her, its eyes widening almost comically and its ears pricking forward; its tongue lolled out of its mouth, fat and pink and forked and glistening with the illusion of moisture as it cocked its head to the side like a dog as if to ask who, me?

“Yeah, I thought so,” Angela said, hooking a finger into its open jaws. It tossed its head back. She could feel it laugh even if she couldn’t hear it, something she was always fascinated by. “Athena?”

“ _I will begin setting up a new account,_ ” the AI said from the nearest terminal. “ _For now I will label it ‘MED_Research_Asst_1’_.”

Ramen laughed again, bobbing its head in exaggerated motions.

* * *

After a few days of trial and error, Angela developed a stylus that was much easier for Ramen to manipulate. Its hands weren’t well suited for grasping small things after all, so it had to be something that was easily moved by its jaws. In the end simplicity won out and they fashioned a mouthpiece for Ramen to gently grip in its mouth while it typed, clicked, and otherwise manipulated the touchpad screen.

Once they reached that point, Angela and Athena worked with Ramen to figure out its visual acuity. It seemed both fascinated and bored by the subject so they kept their explanations to simple words and short sentences.

Ramen assured them that it could very easily adjust itself to all of the screens it had encountered. It told her that it was much like adjusting the focus on her “weird human eyes”.

When Angela absently commented that Ramen very much reminded her of Genji, the spirit simply replied, _as above, so below_.

(When none of the dragons appeared to be around, Angela asked McCree about this - the gunslinger had quickly become the dragon expert outside of the Shimada brothers and was less likely to give her a vague and unhelpful answer because it amused him. McCree explained that the spirits took on the traits of their hosts – to be expected since Ramen and Udon had been with the brothers for every waking moment since they were born. He added that Soba once told him that at heart, Hanzo had always been a crotchety old man and that Genji had always been the odd sort.)

The other positive of setting up a terminal for Ramen was its new email capabilities. It didn’t email anyone save her and Athena, seeing no reason to, but it proved to be surprisingly talkative. If Genji was suspicious of their relationship (any more than he was initially) he gave no sign of it and Ramen didn’t indicate that it was doing anything that Genji wasn’t already aware of.

On the other hand, McCree knew of their interactions and how she and Athena had helped Ramen gain access to the internet. What McCree knew, Hanzo and his dragons knew though Ramen didn’t mention any discussion with Udon or Soba about what it researched.

Things came to a head when Angela found an email that had been sent to her late at night, roughly one week since she had given Ramen access to a computer terminal:

> **From:** MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Angela_Ziegler@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Research
> 
> He knows.
> 
> Medical Research Assistant 1  
>  Overwatch Medical Bay 5  
>  Gibraltar Watchpoint

She found a chain of emails timestamped a few hours previous. Reading through the chain, she found herself laughing.

> **From:** Winston@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela_Ziegler@Overwatch.org, MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> All:
> 
> Athena will be down for some updates to her servers. Her systems will not be shut off completely and all scans will still be running. You will still have access to your emails, communicators, and all other access you have to the base and surrounding areas.
> 
> The systems that will be down for maintenance will be the administrative access, direct access to archived information on her encrypted servers, and some access to the shared drives and mission reports. Other systems will still be running but there may be delays while her system updates.
> 
> Systems will be down from 0500 to approximately 0930. We apologize for any issues this may cause.
> 
> Best,
> 
> Winston

> **From:** D.Va@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org, MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> Lame.
> 
> -Sent from Mobile

> **From:** D.Va@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org, MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> UGH. Why did I get my own email sent back to me?
> 
> -Sent from Mobile

> **From:** Soldier_76@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org, MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> Who is “Med_research_ass_1”?
> 
> -Sent from Mobile

> **From:** Genji@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org, MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> “Research ass”?
> 
> -Sent from Mobile

> **From:** MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> Researching your ass.
> 
> Somehow Dr. Ziegler managed to give you a butt and made your codpiece look like a thong.
> 
> Worse in some ways is that it is a better than the butt you had before Shimada Hanzo tried to kill you.
> 
> Medical Research Assistant 1  
>  Overwatch Medical Bay 5  
>  Gibraltar Watchpoint

> **From:** D.Va@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org, MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> LOL! □
> 
> -Sent from Mobile

> **From:** Genji@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org, MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> This better not be who I think it is.
> 
> -Sent from Mobile

> **From:** MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> I am that I am.
> 
> Medical Research Assistant 1  
>  Overwatch Medical Bay 5  
>  Gibraltar Watchpoint

> **From:** Soldier_76@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org, MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> 1\. “Reply All” does not need to be used for this chain.
> 
> 2\. Who is “med-research-ass-1”?
> 
> -Sent from Mobile

> **From:** Genji@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org, MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> WHO GAVE YOU TERMINAL ACCESS AND AN ACCOUNT
> 
> -Sent by Mobile

> **From:** MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers  
>  1 Attachment: Murad_the_Tiger.jpg
> 
> Use proper punctuation - Shimada Sojiro did not spend that much money on tutors for you to completely disregard all of their  lessons.
> 
> Also, did you know that there are websites dedicated to anthropomorphic animals in very sexual poses?
> 
> For your viewing pleasure.
> 
> Medical Research Assistant 1  
>  Overwatch Medical Bay 5  
>  Gibraltar Watchpoint

> **From:** Genji@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org, MED_Research_Asst_1@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> You and I are going to have some words.
> 
> -Sent from Mobile

> **From:** Genji@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> Everyone, I woudl like to sincerely apologize for “MED_Research_Asst_1”.
> 
> It twill not happen again.
> 
> It was someone taht should not have access but our security has not been compormised. I will speak to Winston about riscinding their access.
> 
> -Sent from Mobile

> **From:** Mei-Ling_Zhou@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Group: Active_Field, Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> * would
> 
> *it will
> 
> *that
> 
> *compromised
> 
> *rescinding
> 
> Proofreading is recommended before sending :)
> 
> Mei-Ling Zhou  
>  周美灵  
>  Climatologist and Data Analyst  
>  Antarctica Watchpoint

> **From:** Mei-Ling_Zhou@Overwatch.org  
>  **To:** Angela _Ziegler@Overwatch.org  
>  **Subject:** Fw: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Updates to Athena’s Servers
> 
> Good morning Dr. Ziegler,
> 
> I was wondering if you knew where Ramen had gotten that picture? The one of the tiger?
> 
> Asking for a friend. I think they would really like to see more ;)
> 
> Mei-Ling Zhou  
>  周美灵  
>  Climatologist and Data Analyst  
>  Antarctica Watchpoint

* * *

She didn’t see Ramen for another two weeks, mostly because it and Genji were away on a mission.

“Ramen misses you,” McCree whispered to Angela. “I can hear it - they’re on their way back I guess. As soon as it’s within range, it’ll be here to see you.”

That brought a smile to her face and she waited in her office for it to return. She was just adjusting the gift she had picked up from town when Ramen appeared in the air above her. “Hello there!” she exclaimed as the dragon twisted and twined around her gleefully. “Welcome back!”

The dragon leaped into her arms, coiling its long tail around her waist as they hugged. It was awkward since Ramen was longer than she was tall and at its widest its barrel was as wide around as her arm and it had such short little arms but they made do.

“Did you miss me?” she teased and Ramen rubbed its face on her shoulders like a cat. “I got something for you.”

She had very carefully not wrapped it in gift wrap, instead choosing to tuck her gift into a bag with tissue paper. Ramen dragged the book out, inspected the cover critically, and then looked up at Angela.

“Athena released the details of your search history to me,” Angela admitted. “So I saw what you had been looking up before they banned you. I thought that while we wait for everyone to cool off, you could take a look at some of these books.”

Though Ramen didn’t have a face that could make expressions that were easily recognizable to Angela, she very well understood the wicked humor in its eyes.

“One more thing,” she added and logged in to her terminal. As Ramen shifted so it could watch over her shoulder, she queued up the slideshow of pictures that she, McCree, and Mei had prepared in its absence. Ramen’s long body tightened around her so that she could feel the rumble of its laugh like thunder all around her.

Every free space of Genji’s room from desk to wall to ceiling to floor to bookshelf to desk was covered in pictures of anthropomorphic animals in vulgar or suggestive positions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angela and Ramen make a terrifying pair. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who leaves comments and kudos! I really appreciate seeing your thoughts on the chapter and it's inspiring to know that you enjoy it!
> 
> Feel free to visit me on tumblr at [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com)! I have a few [bonus](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/169315038291/honored-spirits-bonus-blurb-hanzo-orisa)


	15. Shipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From: Overwatch_Guest_5546@Overwatch.org  
> To: Angela_Ziegler@Overatch.org  
> Subject: RE: Please Assist: Shipping
> 
> The shipping I am asking about refers to people. In the archives that the AI Athena has graciously allowed me to access, I found a few interesting discussion “boards” where people outside of the organization participated in this kind of “shipping”.
> 
> One of the subjects of this “shipping” was between “cyborg ninja dude” and Callsign: Mercy. Given my previous familiarity with Overwatch, I know that Genji was usually referred to as a “cyborg ninja” or sometimes “Domo-Domo Mr. Roboto” and that your callsign is Mercy.
> 
> With that context, are you able to tell me what “shipping” is? The information I find on the internet is vague and remarkably unhelpful.
> 
> Overwatch Guest #5546  
> Antarctica Watchpoint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the [comments](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/169521079756/classywastelandbread-next-up-on-hs-p-yo-they) from [SoulStealer1987](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulStealer1987/pseuds/SoulStealer1987).
> 
> This was going to be silly but ended up just weird, awkward, and kind of sweet. I wanted to explore a little more about Angela and Ramen’s relationship but…that didn’t happen so much haha.

**See the bottom for notes and announcements.**

**This was going to be silly but ended up just weird, awkward, and kind of sweet. I wanted to explore a little more about Angela and Ramen’s relationship but...that didn’t happen so much haha.**

**It will also be included in a separate post since I can do that on Tumblr :P**

* * *

Angela’s terminal chirped and she glanced down at the tiny notification that popped up:  


_From: Overwatch_Guest_1@Overatch.org  
Subject: Please Assist: Shipping_

Surprised, Angela paused as she considered it. The notification very slowly faded away as she watched and thought. There was a voice, a very tiny voice, that whispered, _it’s a bad idea!_

Ramen drifted over and looped affectionately around her neck. Its stylus was still gently clutched in its jaws and it waved it in front of her face like a conductor 

Ignoring the little voice in her head that said that it was a bad idea, Angela opened her messages.

> From: Overwatch_Guest_5546@Overwatch.org  
>  To: Angela_Ziegler@Overatch.org  
>  Subject: Please Assist: Shipping
> 
> Dr. Ziegler,
> 
> I was wondering if you could tell me what “shipping” means.
> 
> Overwatch Guest #5546  
>  Antarctica Watchpoint

Angela frowned first at the email then at the dragon twined around her shoulders. It still clutched its stylus gently in its jaws, its ears pricked forward. When it saw her looking, it bobbed its head so that the stylus moved like a conductor’s rod.

“‘Shipping’ means to transport cargo,” Angela said carefully. She scratched the underside of Ramen’s chin teasingly. “I would have thought that you were clever enough to understand that.” With its mouth occupied by its stylus, Ramen couldn’t nip her teasing fingers but as it drifted back to its terminal it flicked the very end of its tufted tail at her face.

Sputtering to get the sensation of Ramen’s not-really-there fur out of her mouth, Angela laughed and returned to her article. After a few minutes, her email chimed again:

> From: Overwatch_Guest_5546@Overwatch.org  
>  To: Angela_Ziegler@Overatch.org  
>  Subject: RE: Please Assist: Shipping
> 
> The shipping I am asking about refers to people. In the archives that the AI Athena has graciously allowed me to access, I found a few interesting discussion “boards” where people outside of the organization participated in this kind of “shipping”.
> 
> One of the subjects of this “shipping” was between “cyborg ninja dude” and Callsign: Mercy. Given my previous familiarity with Overwatch, I know that Genji was usually referred to as a “cyborg ninja” or sometimes “Domo-Domo Mr. Roboto” and that your callsign is Mercy.
> 
> With that context, are you able to tell me what “shipping” is? The information I find on the internet is vague and remarkably unhelpful.
> 
> Overwatch Guest #5546  
>  Antarctica Watchpoint

“ _Oh_ ,” Angela said in a strangled squeak as Ramen drifted back to her like a dog playing fetch. It let its long tail drape over the edge of her lap and rested its short front paws on her belly. Though it was hard to tell what it was thinking, she thought that it looked concerned.

Reaching up, Angela let her fingers tangle in the long orange strands of its mane over its shoulders as she thought. Once, a long time ago, she had been in Ramen’s position and even now she regretted asking. The rumors of her and Genji’s relationship had been…well, had been _something_ , that was for sure. Worse in some ways, it wasn’t just a rumor on the internet – it had been a popular story around the various Overwatch bases.

Leaning closer, Ramen peered into her face, carefully angling its face to the side so that it wouldn’t poke her with the stylus held in its jaws. “Oh,” she said again and ran her fingers along the ridges of its scales. “ _That_ kind of shipping.”

It bobbed its head in a motion that wasn’t quite a nod of agreement, making its dewlap wobble cutely. Seeing that she wasn’t about to answer anytime soon, it wiggled free of her loose hold and “swam” to its terminal.

This time she watched as it typed with quick bobs of its head that reminded her of a chicken. Nervously she wheeled herself over to Ramen’s perch and peered over its shoulder. It twisted its head to look at her and nearly poked her in the eye; turning back around, it pecked at the glowing keyboard seven more times.

She read: _I’m sorry, do you not know? I can ask Hanzo or Genji about it. Maybe Genji will know since he may have been a part of it. Do I need to ask Genji?_

Two lines down was _sorry._

“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly if the narrowed-eye look Ramen shot her was any indication. “There’s no need to ask Genji.”

Ramen twisted on its perch and reared up on its short hind legs like a very long meerkat. Meeting her eyes, it cocked its head to the side and she didn’t need a translation to know that it was asking _why?_

“Um,” she hesitated, biting her lip.

The dragon seemed to frown and twisted in its seat to type with surprising speed, _I will just ask Genji if it upsets you._

“No!” Angela squeaked, nearly punching it in the back as she tried to stop it.

Not that she _could,_ she remembered with a sinking feeling. Ramen seemed to frown at her, its ears flicking backwards. It twisted around again and hurriedly swiped its claws at the display screen; as they heard the main doors to Medical open, the screens obligingly closed and Ramen jumped – quicker than Angela was used to – to drape itself over her shoulders.

“Dr. Ziegler?” came a voice muffled by the doors to her office and she let out an exaggerated breath of relief when she recognized it as Hanzo’s. He would be merciful on her.

Probably.

“Sorry,” she whispered to Ramen as she stood – with it balancing around her neck – and moved to open the door to her office. She kept it locked just in case someone who would protest Ramen’s network access (again) would walk in. “I just…don’t want to discuss that with him.”

A cordial greeting was on the tip of her tongue when she opened the door to her office. Hanzo stood a few meters back, his large arms crossed across his chest, looking far too smug. The last person she wanted to see was held by the nape of his cybernetic neck – like a scruffed kitten – by McCree. Without his mask which she now saw was held in one of Hanzo’s large hands, Genji looked just as reluctant to see her as she was to see him.

Soba was tangled in McCree’s serape and over his head and shoulders as it always seemed to be these days; Udon clung to the belt loops of his jeans like a strange-looking and faintly-glowing belt.

“Mornin’, Doc,” McCree said cheerfully as Hanzo hid a smile behind a fist. She told herself that she would make sure her Caduceus staff _hurt_ when she healed them on their next mission despite knowing that she would do no such thing.

Again, probably.

“Me an’ Han were comin’ over ‘cause he said Ramen had some odd questions,” McCree continued with a cheerful smile. _You know you love me,_ his expression said and never before had Angela wanted to murder someone as much as she did then. “An’ _then_ we found one of yer strays hidin’ outside.”

A blush rose to Genji’s cheeks. “Um,” he said awkwardly, not quite meeting her eyes. “Hello, Dr. Ziegler.” 

“Hello, Genji,” Angela said just as awkwardly. Ramen untangled itself from around her neck and drifted into the air to be joined with Udon and Soba. They twisted in the air above them, their jaws open wide in gleeful grins. 

McCree coughed delicately into his hand and with a warning squeeze to Genji, released him. “Now,” he said as if the traitor couldn’t hear the dragons speak. “What’s this question?” 

“Shipping,” Hanzo answered, mirth clear in his voice. “Ramen was asking what ‘shipping’ was because it found posts about it in the old Overwatch fan blogs. Specifically posts ‘shipping’ Mercy and ‘cyborg ninja dude’.” 

To her surprise, Genji turned bright red and McCree threw his head back with a roar of laughter. “People are still pairing you two together?” 

Ramen spiraled downward, Udon and Soba in its wake; Genji’s eyes widened and he swore in his native tongue. A moment later Ramen had disappeared into a puff of green smoke and the younger Shimada brother had disappeared out the window. 

Still blushing, Angela turned to find that Hanzo was nearly doubled over in laughter and his cheeks were an alarming shade of red. McCree continued to wheeze and Angela considered sneaking back into her office when Soba and Udon drifted down and draped themselves over McCree’s shoulders with smug bleps of their tongues. 

Predictably it was Hanzo that was able to pull himself together. To her surprise, he was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. It took some tries for them to explain to her just what had happened:

After hearing McCree refer to it as “pairing”, Ramen very suddenly remembered that it had heard that phrase before. Specifically in Genji’s early experiences with the internet. 

It reminded Genji of this in great detail, citing specific sources of fandom he had followed in his youth. That and the pornography he and his various flings had participated in watching and reading. Most of the names of the Japanese cartoons, anime, and manga he had been a fan of had included him “shipping” some of the characters. 

McCree didn’t lie to her and went into even more detail, which she drew the line at and closed the door in their faces. Through the barrier between them, she could still hear Hanzo’s wheezing as he continued to laugh.

* * *

Winston’s turn at cooking always resulted in enormous an enormous mess that took ridiculous amounts of time to clean. Why exactly he was ever put on the cooking rotation was anyone’s guess but most likely he had decided that cooking was close enough to science that he could reasonably make do.

That being said, he made some of the best satay with peanut sauce that anyone had ever eaten, nevermind that they all knew he was using it as an excuse to feed his crippling addiction to peanut butter. 

After dinner, Angela took a quiet evening walk along the seaside cliffs and was surprised when she returned to her office to find Ramen coiled up on her desk. Even more surprising was its remarkable lack of reaction to her: where it would normally dart through the air to drape over her now Ramen uncoiled and moved away from her, twining on and over its perch in her office. One of the notifications on her console blinked. 

For a creature unable to easily express itself, Ramen was surprisingly easy to read. To supplement its apologetic eyes, it had sent her an email as well:

> From: Green_Noodle@Overwatch.org  
>  To: Angela_Ziegler@Overatch.org  
>  Subject: Most Sincere Apologies
> 
> I apologize for upsetting you earlier. 
> 
> It is one thing to tease my host but another thing - and something remarkably insensitive - to tease you like I would tease him. 
> 
> I hope that this does not ruin our friendship as I hold it in very high regard. 
> 
> Ramen
> 
> ...
> 
> Post scriptum: For what it’s worth, I’d ship the two of you. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A few notes about the chapter:**   
> 
> 
> * Someone mentioned to me that McCree’s accent seems to keep changing...it’s sort of intentional. For those not used to him his accent seems stronger...I also sometimes forget to write him having an accent. It’s kind of a win-win. 
>   
> 
> * Ramen’s terminal account is constantly changing on a randomized scale. It also randomly generates its account name to prevent naysayers from banning it :P
> 
>  **Announcements as promised:**  
>  So lately my work has been changing up on me and I got an almost-promotion last week. Now I’m pulling a lot of later evenings to finish up work I missed during training and showing up a few hours early to get the training that would make my productivity decrease. -_-;;
> 
> That being said, it’s been an exhausting week and I know that until I finish my training I won’t have a lot of time for fun haha. My exhaustion sometimes makes it difficult for me to write and affects my already-short attention span.
> 
> In addition, I have been wanting to work on my NaNoWriMo2017 submission because I was extremely disappointed in the way it turned out at the end of the month. It needs to be completely redone and I would like to get working on that. 
> 
> So once I figure out my new work and training schedule, I’ll be more active in writing, but not always for Honored Spirits. Not that I had any particular schedule for updating, but they will most likely slow down a bit while I try to establish a writing schedule around my training. And sleep...sleep would be nice. 
> 
> Feel free to visit me over on tumblr at [Classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com) for blurbs, notes, brief updates, pictures of cute kittens and puppies, and the occasional recipe. 
> 
> I’ll stop my rambling now. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who has left comments and kudos. You always make me smile and your reactions are great inspiration for me to continue this. 
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> ~DC


	16. Voices (...again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there aren't that many noodles but Angela and Zenyatta spend some time together and are sassy and adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long. I kept getting distracted by other projects like Cards and the Nothing Gold series.

Angela was very good at keeping secrets – it was a part of her job, after all, and she took patient confidentiality very seriously.

She was also very good at lying – another part of her job that she did not relish.

_ You’re going to be just fine _ , she said to many as she struggled to make them comfortable in their last moments.  _ Everything’s okay, don’t worry _ , she’d said to even more in order to keep them calm while she stabilized them and took from them their body in ways they could never reclaim.

In this tender new version of Overwatch, she tried not to do that. There were so few of them…they couldn’t afford to be kept in the dark in regards to their injuries.

_ I’m not always going to be here to save you, _ she’d tell them as she patched them up.

_ It’s okay,  _ they’d inevitably reply, unaware of the distress they were causing her.  _ I’ve lived long enough _ . They would add their own flair of course ( _ it’s okay, doc, hadn’t expected to stick around this long anyhow; a soldier rests when she’s/he’s dead; if I had been struck down, then perhaps it is my time indeed and it will be nothing less than what I deserve _ ) but the theme remained the same.

But the person she lied to the most, unsurprisingly, was herself.

_ It’s okay, at least you saved their life _ , she’d think as she watched a patient’s face crumble under the realization of their new life, their new existence missing limb, limb _ s _ , or loved ones.  _ They’re still alive; they’ll be fine _ .

So when she began to hear whispers, she told herself that it was just the vents, just an overactive imagination, or the sounds from Ramen’s terminal as it tapped away at the holo-screen with its improvised stylus. Maybe it was too much coffee or too little sleep or the rumbling of an empty stomach.

The whispers came and went with such infrequency that it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was. Sometimes it was when she was alone at night and sometimes it was when she was sitting with Ramen in her office; it happened when she was with people and when she was alone and they only seemed to get louder. So far it was just unintelligible mumbles, as ephemeral as a breeze, but as time went on it grew steadily louder.

She had the first inkling of what it may be the first day that Hanzo and Genji were both gone for a recon mission. Pairing the two of them together still wasn’t quite the best idea but their expertise in stealth was still sorely needed.

The night they left and the following day she heard no voices, which while terrifying she had been becoming used to hearing, and  _ wondered _ .

While she pondered the mysteries of the voices the second day the brothers were gone, Zenyatta knocked gently on her door. He was walking, his hands folded serenely at his waist in front of him. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “I was wondering if you had a moment.”

“Of course,” she said with a bright smile as she shoved the mystery of the voices out of her head. Angela always liked speaking to Zenyatta: he could be as silly and sarcastic as he was serious and in many ways had much more of a personality than others she’d worked with in the past. “Come in!”

Zenyatta walked in, his large feet – which were designed to emulate a human foot in sandals – made light tapping sounds against the clean tile floor. “My antigrav drive has been malfunctioning lately,” he said though Angela hadn’t (and would not have) asked. “Torbjörn had it removed for the day and he and Brigitte are looking over it.”

“What do you think of Brigitte?” Angela asked, honestly curious as she cleared a place for him to sit. She had a few sturdy chairs that she rearranged for Zenyatta and he nodded his thanks.

“I find her refreshing,” the monk replied as he gently tested the strength of the wooden chair. “The difficulties we have with her are just the rest of us getting used to another person. I believe she is and will be an asset to the team – we just need to find which people complement her skills and vice versa.”

Angela made a face as he sat. “Don’t you think she’s a bit…young?” she asked hesitantly. “This  _ is _ a dangerous profession.”

“She is older than I am,” Zenyatta pointed out gently. “And has chosen to do this of her own free will.”

“I know,” Angela said with a heavy sigh as she flopped into her own chair. It creaked and protested the abuse but ultimately held; when Torbjörn made a sturdy chair, it was  _ sturdy _ . “I’m just…”

“You’re worried for her,” Zenyatta said gently and one of the orbs around his neck drifted over to her, releasing a soft golden light as it approached.

She caught it gently, something she didn’t have the opportunity to do in the field, and cupped it in her hands. It was startlingly warm and the circular designs she had thought were carved into the faces spun gently like the cogs and gears of a clock. The fog and fire that was somehow released reminded her of a biotic emitter but it didn’t have that peculiar itching sensation; instead it was warm, like the first warm breeze after leaving a cold building, like basking in the sun for just a moment – all the time she had to take a break even for a team as small as them. The warmth made her smile.

“I know I shouldn’t be,” Angela said, her eyes on the orb as she rolled it gently in her hands. A sudden thought came to her and she jerked her head up to stare with wide eyes at Zenyatta. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she breathed and yanked her hands away from the orb. It fell a few centimeters before bobbing in the air again like a buoy on the ocean. “Is this…?”

Zenyatta tilted his head to the side and if he had a face, she thought he’d be smiling. “It’s quite alright,” he assured her. “I’m okay with you fondling my ball.”

She was a doctor, dammit, and shouldn’t be so embarrassed by things like this but she still pressed her hands to her blushing cheeks. “When you put it like that, I don’t want to touch it again,” she said. When she gathered herself, she offered him a sly smile though she was sure that her cheeks were still bright red. “Though I suppose if you only have one, then perhaps that may be an issue.”

The monk laughed and the remaining orbs around his neck spun and bobbed in place. “Perhaps I have too many rather than too few,” he said, extending his arms to either side with his palms up. The mala formed by his orbs drifted outward until they spun around him like planets in orbit.

Unable to help herself, she pressed her hands to her lips as she laughed. Zenyatta joined a moment later as all of his orbs save the one hovering in Angela’s lap returned to their places around his neck.

“Thank you,” she told him when their laughter subsided and wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye. “I really needed that.”

Zenyatta tilted his head to the side, one of the many ways he indicated a smile. “Rough day?” he asked kindly.

“Rough  _ week _ ,” Angela said with a tired huff, reaching down to cup the gently-glowing orb in her hands. It cast a corona of wispy golden light that trailed in the air as she lifted it higher. “Rough  _ month _ ,” she amended as she peered at it.

Angela jumped when another joined the first so that two orbs were nestled in her cupped palms. She cast a wry smile at Zenyatta who despite having no way to express emotion on his faceplate, looked innocent.

“Do you wish to speak of it?” Zenyatta asked gently.

For a moment Angela thought, watching the mechanisms in each orb slowly spin. Even that alone was soothing and she sighed. “I’ve…” she peered up at him suddenly, struck with a very uncomfortable thought.

“I will not speak of this to anyone,” Zenyatta assured her, his soothing voice taking on a more serious edge.

She looked back down at the orbs in her hands. “I’ve been…hearing things lately. Whispers.”

“At night?” Zenyatta asked sharply and she looked up in surprise, having never quite heard that tone of voice from Zenyatta outside of the field. He was leaning forward slightly, intently. “Or all throughout the day?”

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him. “It happens a lot,” she said slowly. “Intermittently. I don’t hear the words but…”

“But you hear the voice,” Zenyatta finished.

Angela swallowed. “You hear it too.”

“I do,” Zenyatta confirmed. “I have been for a while.”

“How long?” Angela asked.

Zenyatta shrugged even though Angela knew that he had no doubt logged the exact moment he heard it – one of the plus sides of the kind of perfect recall that omnics had. “A few weeks. It’s getting louder.”

“How loud?” Angela asked.

“I can almost hear the words it’s saying,” Zenyatta said quietly. “And you?”

Angela shook her head. “Only two weeks or so,” she said. “But at this point it definitely sounds like a voice.”

For a long moment the both of them were silent and Angela watched the cogs move in the orbs in her hands. Closing her fingers over them, they almost felt like a mechanical clock; she swore they almost had a heartbeat or perhaps just slowly ticked away.

“What could be causing it?” Zenyatta asked with all the relief it warranted, with the heavy thoughts between them:  _ thank goodness someone else heard it too - I’m not crazy _ .

Gently Angela pushed the orbs higher into the air and watched them wobble as their miniature antigrav fields kicked in; they floated and bobbed above her hands, spinning and wiggling like wind chimes in a breeze. “I have an idea,” she said slowly as she stood. “But I need to have it confirmed. Would you like to come with me?”

* * *

They found McCree in the kitchen, measuring out spices into a bowl with Hana sitting on the counter next to him, inspecting one of the spice jars. “Howdy,” he said with a wide smile. Hana looked up guiltily when she saw them and pursed her lips.

“Hello Jesse,” Angela said, unable to help the reflexive smile that rose to her lips. It was hard not to smile when Jesse was relaxed. “Do you have a moment?”

A peculiar expression crossed Hana’s face before she hid it, turning to put the jar back on the counter next to her. When she turned around again, her face was neutral once more and she inspected a jar of cinnamon sticks.

Jesse’s eyes flicked to her and then back to Angela and Zenyatta. “Sure,” he said. “But I’m working on dinner right now. Can it wait until I’m done?”

“I have the feeling that all our questions are the same,” Zenyatta said suddenly, making Angela jump. “Or within the same vein.” Hana scowled at them mulishly and opened her mouth as if to argue. “About hearing whispers? Maybe even voices.” Hana closed her mouth, her eyes wide.

Jesse snorted, accidentally pouring out a large amount of whatever bright red spice was in his hands. From the way he clicked his tongue, it was more than he had intended but it didn’t seem that he was too upset by it because he capped the jar and reached for the next one. “Yup,” he said and then nodded at the kitchen table behind him. “Sounds about right. May as well make yourselves comfy. If you’re comfortable with it as well,” he added with a polite nod to Hana.

“I mean,” she said mulishly, looking back down at the cinnamon sticks in her hands. “If it’s the exact same…”

Jesse snorted again. “It is,” he said. “I’ll need two…no, four of those sticks, please,” he said to Hana who nodded and put her tongue between her lips as she struggled to open the jar in her hands. He dusted his hands off and began putting the spices back in the cabinets.

“So you know what we’re hearing?” Angela asked even though it wasn’t really a question at this point.

Throwing a cocky smirk over his shoulder at her, Jesse barked a laugh. “’Course! Went through it myself. It’s the dragons though I would guess that in  _ your _ cases, it’s dra _ gon _ , as in  _ singular _ and Hana’s is plural.”

“Oh,” Zenyatta murmured with a hint of static in his voice.

Jesse chuckled. “Yeah,” he said. “ _ Oh _ . Bet it was pretty scary at first, huh?”

“I was afraid that I was going mad,” Angela breathed, collapsing into a chair. She was  _ certain  _ this was what it was, but it was reassuring to have her thoughts confirmed.

At the stove, Jesse chuckled. It clicked as he turned it on and put a small pan over it; he dumped the bowl of spices in the pan and the kitchen was filled with the warm smell as they toasted. “Believe me, I  _ know _ ,” he said. “It was terrifying. I think I started hearing Soba first…it’s pretty chatty so it would talk my ear off – metaphorically, especially in this case – about anything and everything. My only consolation was that it never really seemed to be talking  _ to me _ , just to and about everything and anything in general.” The spices in the pan hissed as he shook it briskly. “But it wasn’t much consolation.”

“What…” Zenyatta paused and the mala around his neck spun. It was the most agitated that Angela had ever seen him and she stared for a moment in surprise.

“Causes it?” Jesse asked. “Hard to say. I know Han was cozy with me long before I started hearing the dragons. Still can’t quite hear Ramen the way I hear Soba and Udon, either.”

Hana kicked her feet, leaning forward. “What’s it like? I  _ think _ I’m hearing only one of them – the other’s just kind of muttering.”

“Not surprising,” Jesse said dryly. “Soba’s chatty but Udon just tends to mutter to itself.” He took the pan of spices off the heat and inspected them critically as he thought. “It’s bits and pieces, like static almost; or a bad connection. You start hearing a soft voice and then it gets louder and clearer like you’re going closer to the source of the signal. Then it starts getting clearer and then you can hear actual words.”

Zenyatta tilted his head to the side. If he had a question he chose not to voice it so Angela asked, “But I’ve been next to Ramen a bunch of times when I heard the voice. Why couldn’t I hear it better?”

“It’s not a matter of being physically close to them,” Jesse said after a thoughtful pause as he put the spices back on the heat. “They don’t really need to be  _ close _ for you to hear them…eventually. Right now the voices died down, didn’t they?” they all nodded even though he wasn’t looking at them. “Well, right now  _ you _ have a range but  _ I _ can hear Soba chasing a pigeon.”

They were all startled into slightly hysterical laughter. Jesse turned the gas off and dumped the spices back into a bowl. He ducked into the refrigerator and returned with arms full of ground meat.

“Why now?” Zenyatta asked when they calmed down. “I’ve been traveling with Genji for years – we’re very…” he paused when they all turned to look at him and he coughed awkwardly, a noise that sounded like a short burst of static. “Close. We’re very  _ close _ .”

Angela snorted and shook her head adamantly when Hana and Jesse looked at her expectantly. “Doctor-patient confidentiality,” she said around another burst of hysterical laughter. She still very much remembered Genji wandering into her office with bright red threads caught in his joints but wasn’t about to tell them  _ that _ .

“Best I can guess,” Jesse said slowly. “Is that they’re the  _ most _ comfortable with us now.  _ Family  _ means that you can hear the dragons after all and family  _ doesn’t _ have to be blood. They’ve been trying to keep us at arms-length – why, I can’t even begin to guess – but now…”

“You can’t be in this profession without forming close bonds with people,” Hana said quietly. “Not with missions and teams like ours. It was only a matter of time.”

Angela drummed her fingers on the table thoughtfully. “So what do you suggest we do?”

This time Jesse turned around and offered her a grin. “Don’t say anything at first,” he advised. “Let the voice – or voices – get louder until you can hear them. Trust me, you hear  _ the best  _ things.”

“I can only imagine,” Zenyatta said dryly.

Jesse shot him a finger gun. “Exactly. Get some blackmail material and get used to it. They’ll be  _ thrilled _ to learn that you can hear them, but I shudder to think of what might happen if you tell them before you can easily hear them.” He smiled ruefully. “But in the end it’s your choice. I can only guide you.”

* * *

The brothers’ return to the base was, as expected, as dramatic as ever. As soon as Hanzo caught sight of Jesse, he threw himself into his arms; his tattoo flared with bright blue light and both dragons, in their battle forms, gave earth-shattering roars and tangled themselves around the two of them.

**Oh jeez,** the voice that Zenyatta and Angela now recognized as Ramen said.  **Why can’t I do that, Genji? Why won’t you let me? I want to greet Dr. Ziegler and Master Zenyatta like that.**

Sharing a private laugh with Zenyatta, Angela opened her arms. “Well?” she asked as Genji approached. “Where’s  _ our _ big scaly hug?”

Their heads were filled with a deafening roar as Ramen exploded from Genji back, as large as it was in combat (which compared to Hanzo’s pair, wasn’t very large at all) and charged at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for another chapter as my apology for being MIA for so long!
> 
> Feel free to come and visit me at my tumblr at [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com). You can yell at me there if you so choose as well. 
> 
> As always, thank you for everyone that has left comments and kudos! 
> 
> ~DC


	17. Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes meet Orisa and Orisa meets some very strange lizards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place about two weeks after Voices (part 2). 
> 
> Also, I'm sure a team comp like this is probably terrible but I don't care, it seemed funny. (I play Mystery Heroes so I never have to choose because I'm bad at it and it makes me extremely nervous.)

Angela ran her free hand through her messy hair and sighed. Now that the adrenaline was leaving her, she was more aware of the tremble in her hands from the white-knuckled grip she had kept on her staff. Spreading her wings, she released the Valkyrie mode on her suit and carefully drifted toward the ground.

A three-toed talon like spun glass closed around her waist and she started, looking up in surprise to find that one of Hanzo’s dragons had caught her. Not in their “noodle forms”, it was much more difficult to distinguish them but from the way it arched its neck to peer at her, she thought it might be Soba.

**All aboard!** Soba said cheerfully.  **I will be like a train!**

**Trains are not in the air,** Udon said disapprovingly from somewhere above them. Twisting her head, she found she couldn’t see it as the sky was eclipsed by Soba’s spun-glass body.  **They do not fly.**

Soba snorted, a hint of that terrifying roar creeping out from between its jaws.  **Well I will be a flying thing.**

**You** **_are_ ** **a flying thing,** Udon grumbled back

Folding her wings back into their rest position, Angela leaned back and reached her free hand up to pet Soba’s neck as they drifted along the streets. She swore fitfully when her staff slipped from her numb fingers but a flash of blue caught it.

**I have your staff,** Udon told her as it arched up again, spinning around Soba in a helix not unlike the way they charged into battle. She could see her staff grasped loosely in one of its talons.  **Do not worry, Doctor Ziegler.**

“Thank you,” Angela told it and Soba. “I hadn’t realized I had wandered so high up.”

**You followed Pharah,** Udon replied. Jesse had warned her that the dragons always spoke as if everyone could hear them though they never seemed to expect a response. Still, it seemed to be a very odd quirk they had to perpetuate a one-sided conversation.  **And Pharah flew high and far to chase the stragglers.**

Craning her head, Angela searched the skies for the other woman. “I don’t hear her jets,” she said. “Where is she?”

Soba twisted as if looking around.  **She is above us,** it said. Then it roared suddenly, a terrible ringing note that made her jump.  **A HORSE!** Suddenly they both lurched and then they were falling much faster; instead of the lazy corkscrew pattern they had been drifting down in, they were practically plummeting, diving, like some kind of bird of prey.

**STOP!** Udon cried as Angela screamed.  **YOU ARE HOLDING DOCTOR ZIEGLER!** Suddenly they were spinning and rolling and the world was filled with blue. The blue talons wrapped around her waist disappeared and she began to fall; a few terrifying seconds of freefall later she was caught again and this time they remained at altitude, hovering twenty feet over the ground.

She was upside-down and closed her eyes, slowly bringing her hands to cover her face and taking a deep, shaky breath. They were close enough to the ground that Angela could hear Genji say, “Ramen, do you think you can get her?”

**I AM CAPABLE OF DOING SO,** Udon thundered, sounding quite annoyed.  **I AM MERELY GIVING HER A MOMENT TO COMPOSE HERSELF.**

Very slowly they began drifting down and Angela opened her eyes to watch their slow descent. “Thank you,” Angela squeaked to Udon who gave a surprisingly soft chirp in reply.

“I got her,” Genji said again as she was slowly lowered into his arms. “Angela, Dr. Ziegler…are you well?”

Her legs nearly gave out beneath her when she tried to stand and she clung to Genji’s arms. “I just…need a moment.”

“Take your time,” Hanzo said as Udon disappeared into bluish mist and swept back to its binding tattoo somewhere beneath Hanzo’s skin. He held her Caduceus Staff in one arm though how he got it, Angela wasn’t entirely certain. “Soba’s excited about…our new companion.”

So reminded, Angela looked around and found the Numbanian omnic standing apart from their group. Soba was nowhere to be seen but the tattoo on Hanzo’s arm was bright and vibrant, so she figured that he had recalled the other spirit.

“Hello,” the omnic said, raising a hand. “Are you in need of medical attention?”

Taking another deep breath, Angela slowly shifted her weight away from Genji and was relieved to find that she could stand on her own even if her legs felt like overcooked noodles. “No, I am fine, thank you. I just needed a moment.”

The omnic peered at her with articulated golden optics that spun as if to mimic cartoonish facial expressions. Two long green tusks curled along the sides of their otherwise featureless helm. Unlike Bastion or Zenyatta, they were a quadrupedal model with four oddly-jointed legs that ended in foot pads shaped almost like horseshoes.

**DO YOU THINK MCCREE WOULD LIKE IT?** Soba bellowed.

The omnic in front of them peered at them curiously. “Greetings,” they said cheerfully. “I am called Orisa. Thank you for your assistance.”

Angela opened her mouth to speak but was distracted by Soba’s thunderous voice,  **WE NEED TO TELL MCCREE** .

**Do you think the omnic would be good in a rodeo?** Ramen wondered. Another voice, which Angela thought was Udon, hissed.

**Do not be rude,** Udon said.

Angela cleared her throat and Hanzo glanced at her. From the tiny curl of his lip, he probably understood her plight; when Genji glanced suspiciously between them, Hanzo schooled his face into innocence that clearly did not fool his brother.

“It was our pleasure to assist,” Hanzo said smoothly as Angela composed herself. “But it really should be  _ us _ that thanks you for your assistance – without you, we probably would not have succeed in our mission.”

The omnic, Orisa, bounced their front hooves as if excited. Then, as if remembering themselves, they looked down at the pavement that had cracked beneath their front legs and then the damage around them. “Ah,” they said, sounding sheepish. “I apologize. The Numbanian authorities will take care of the mess, but Efi would like to invite you to lunch.”

“Efi Oladele?” Angela asked, finally getting a hold of herself.

The omnic’s optic sensors swirled into two little triangles as if pleased. “Yes! She is my creator.”

“We’ve heard a lot about her,” Angela said. “And she is one of the reasons that we had visited Numbani in the first place.”

**If we would have known that Protector Orisa was a horse, we would have been here sooner,** Soba said, sounding surprisingly sulky.

**Protector Orisa is not a horse,** Udon said with a rude noise. Angela saw Hanzo’s lips twitch.

“It would be our pleasure to accept her invitation to lunch,” Angela said with a tense grin as she struggled not to laugh outright. The last thing she wanted to do was give this new omnic the impression that she was mad.

At times like these, she envied Genji’s mask.

“Excellent!” Orisa said cheerfully. “Follow me, please.”

“Wait,” Angela said as she counted heads. The omnic turned back around to look at her. “Where is…” she trailed off when she saw that both Shimadas were standing quietly with their fingers pointed up.

Perched on a nearby sign board like a shiny blue and gold gargoyle was Pharah and perched on each shoulder and one on the crest of her helm were pigeons. It was difficult to tell her expression with the visor of the Raptora helm but her lips were pressed tight like she was holding back laughter.

**Those pigeons look tasty,** Ramen said.

**We do not eat, nor do we taste,** Udon said grumpily.

**Pigeons are fun to chase,** Soba said. 

A voice that Angela thought was Udon snorted. She was proven correct a moment later when Udon said,  **Yes, but you nearly gave away our position during reconnaissance.**

“Do not move,” Orisa advised her, tilting their faceplate up to look at the security officer. “The pigeons are nesting on you.”

“Nesting?” Genji asked, the amusement evident in his voice.

Hanzo turned a laugh into a rough cough and offered his free arm to Angela who was still a little wobbly on her feet. “Mating,” Orisa said cheerfully. “Perhaps they think that your helm would make a good nest.”

With a yell, Pharah leaped up, dislodging all of the birds in a shower of feathers, panicked cooing, and the flutter of wings. At the last minute she activated her rockets and slowed her fall but she still landed heavily, wobbling off-balance on street-level.

Orisa’s mechanical laughter was infectious and everyone but Pharah laughed though a reluctant smile ticked up the corners of her lips just a little.

**That’s not what mating looks like,** Udon protested and Genji’s laughter turned rough; he choked.  **With the number of times that Hanzo and Jesse McCree-**

**How often?** Ramen interrupted.  **Is it as often as Genji does? He mates** **_often_ ** **.**

Angela pressed a hand to her mouth and felt her cheeks flame brilliant red. She saw a flash of horror cross Hanzo’s face a moment before he schooled it into neutrality. Jesse once told her that the brothers (and he, after some practice) could speak to the dragons without words; Genji or Hanzo must have said something to the dragons that she couldn’t hear for they fell silent again.

“That was a funny joke,” Orisa said, prancing on their front legs again. They settled quickly and leaned down to peer at them. “Are you ready? Efi is expecting us.”

They followed Orisa down the narrow Numbani streets. Occasionally they were stopped by civilians cautiously leaving the areas they had taken shelter at the sight of the group or, more accurately, at the sight of Orisa. They greeted everyone politely by name and gently requested that they return to safety until the Numbanian authorities declared it safe to move about the streets again.

Nothing was said about the haggard group trailing after her, for which they were thankful.

Angela had difficulty keeping up, mentally and physically exhausted. Hanzo allowed her to hang off his arm for most of the trip while in his other hand he held her staff. Genji offered to carry her, citing the superhuman strength and endurance of his “sweet robot body”.

It clearly made Hanzo uncomfortable but he said nothing of it except to make a face that only Angela seemed to see.

**Rude,** Soba muttered but the dragons were otherwise silent.

Just as Genji was about to lift her, Orisa seemed to notice their distress and stopped. They cocked their head to the side. “Do you require medical attention?” they asked again, this time with a hint of urgency to their accented voice.

“It’s alright,” Angela assured them as she slumped against Genji’s shoulders. “I’m just tired. The Valkyrie setting in my suit is…exhausting.” Perhaps it was just her imagination but she thought she felt a scaly cheek rub against her palm where it rested around Genji’s armored shoulders. She didn’t say anything but it made her smile.

The golden plates in Orisa’s optical sockets gave the impression that they blinked at them. “If you would prefer, you are welcome to ride on my back for the rest of the ride,” she offered. “But it is not too much further if you are uncomfortable with it.”

**RIDE THE HORSE,** Soba thundered.

**RIDE THE HORSE!** Ramen echoed.

**PROTECTOR ORISA IS NOT A HORSE,** Udon roared.

Angela tried not to wince. “I don’t want to be a bother,” she demurred. “If it’s not too far I think I can walk.”

“Nonsense!” Orisa said cheerfully. They spun in place not unlike a dog and carefully folded their legs beneath themselves, bringing their broad, segmented back within reach. They spun their head and torso around at a disturbing angle and gestured to their hindquarters. “You cannot sit too close to my torso as my Supercharger may injure you,” they said apologetically. “But Efi will sometimes ride along with me as I conduct my patrols to make sure that my programming is working as efficiently as possible. She will sit here and tells me that the ride is not as bumpy as she had expected it.” Orisa’s optical plates spun as if they were smiling. “You are welcome to ride along here as well.”

Hanzo’s jacket wiggled and wisps of blue escaped from his collar, hem, and cuffs. A similar phenomenon occurred with Genji though Ramen was more visible as it slid and rippled along the armor on his back and shoulders.

“Error,” Orisa said, twisting their head toward them with surprising speed. “Unusual energy signal detected.” Their optic plates narrowed suspiciously. “Similar signals were detected upon the release of hardlight projections that caused great destruction. Please explain.” Their hand clenched and the pins in their other arm pulled back with metallic clicks; a panel stamped with a sun motif popped out with a burst of spinning greenish light. Despite its phrasing, it clearly wasn’t a request. 

Genji held his hands up placatingly. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Nothing bad, I promise. Our…dragon spirits were just excited.”

The omnic regarded them suspiciously. Angela stifled a laugh when Soba popped its head out from the wide collar of Hanzo’s jacket. Behind her, Orisa extended their legs and stood to their full height and turned to face them.

“My data banks do not have information for ‘spirit dragons’,” Orisa informed them. “Please elaborate.”

Hanzo used his free hand to tug Soba out and through his jacket, handing Mercy’s staff to Genji so he could hold the dragon spirit out like one would hold a kitten. Soba’s long whiskers flicked in the air and it tossed its head as its hind legs kicked in the air, its tail flicking just above the pavement in agitated arcs.

“This is one of my spirit companions,” he said solemnly as Soba arched its neck back and stuck its forked tongue out. “In battle they manifest as dangerous dragons. Outside of battle…”

Udon popped its head out of the back of Hanzo’s jacket and rested its chin on Hanzo’s head. **We are** **_always_ ** **dangerous dragons,** Udon said grumpily.

**We bite,** Ramen added though Angela had never seen any such thing.

Orisa regarded them. “Are they dangerous now?” they asked suspiciously.

“They’re like…kittens,” Genji said. “Smart,  _ annoying _ , kittens. That can fly.”

**We are always dangerous,** Udon grumbled.  **Do not lie.**

Soba appeared to sneeze but the sound was only in Angela’s mind…or however she “heard” the dragons.  **We are not cats,** it sniffed.  **Hanzo, put me down!** It wiggled its hind legs and its front talons opened and closed like grasping hands.

Hanzo obeyed, gently lobbing it into the air where it righted itself with a shake of its long body. Tossing its head it swirled in the air between Hanzo and Orisa, making the omnic hop backwards in surprise. “I apologize that they startled you,” Hanzo said.

For a long moment the omnic regarded the dragons suspiciously, watching as Udon scrambled the rest of the way out of Hanzo’s jacket and Ramen climbed to drape itself over Genji’s shoulders. “Hmm,” they said thoughtfully. “Are they harmful?”

“No,” Hanzo and Genji said almost in unison and they traded surprised glances.

“Not as they are,” Hanzo amended. 

“More like lizards. Big lizards,” Genji added.

Orisa peered at them. “Even lizards can be dangerous and venomous,” they pointed out. 

“Like puppies,” Genji said with a shrug. “They nibble but they don’t break the skin. If they scratch it’s an accident but they rarely have much weight to scratch anyway.” 

The guardian of Numbani eyed them, shifting on their forelegs as they considered the three dragons. If the way Soba floated and seemed to swim through the air bothered them, they gave no indication.

“Very well,” the omnic said reluctantly and their gun arm spun as it deactivated. It held out its hand to Soba. “Will it let me pet it?” 

Angela smiled and held out her arms and Ramen immediately darted over. The omnic jumped again, twisting to keep the serpentine form of the dragon in view. Ramen twined around her, making little chittering noises and little squeaks as it rubbed its scaly face over her like a cat. 

“This is Ramen,” she told Orisa, bringing one of her hands between the dragon’s shoulder blades. She scratched along its mane and crest and took a step closer to Orisa. “Here, it likes to be pet right here.”

Ramen wiggled in her arms as the omnic leaned down.  **I am not a noodle,** Ramen said indignantly.  **I am not for eating - Protector Orisa must know this.**

**Omnics do not eat like humans do,** Udon reminded it.  **You are in no danger of being eaten by Protector Orisa.**

The green dragon’s halfhearted wiggling subsided when Orisa’s large, blunt fingers stroked along its spine. Its tail lashed.  **Ooh, that feels nice.**

“It likes it,” Angela assured Orisa when it recoiled at Ramen’s renewed wiggling. 

“Hmm,” Orisa said and leaned back, much to Ramen’s displeasure. “Let us move on,” they said at last. “Efi is expecting us.” 

**I WANT TO RIDE THE HORSE WITH YOU** , Ramen thundered as Orisa bent their legs for Angela to climb up. 

**PROTECTOR ORISA IS NOT A HORSE,** Udon roared.  **PROTECTOR ORISA IS A CENTAUR AND PROTECTOR ORISA IS** **_PERFECT_ ** **!** Ramen and Soba both turned their heads to Udon, extended their dewlaps, flattened their ears, and bobbed their heads in annoyance.

Suddenly the absurdity of it all hit her and Angela crumbled, curling down and over Ramen as she dissolved into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading and for all of those that have left kudos and comments.
> 
> Feel free to come and yell at me on my tumblr at [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com). 
> 
> ~DC


	18. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hana took the phone back and swiped a few times. “There are _a lot_ of pictures,” she admitted. “Some of them are mentally scarring since I know you both and work with you on a daily basis but I must say, my fans got _talent_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place about a week or two after Horse (aka Udon Has An Enormous Crush). 
> 
> In the mean-time, ~~anonymous activists~~ Angela have been campaigning for Ramen to gain terminal/internet access.

After the battle for Ramen’s terminal access had been won, Angela noticed that it had a fascination with reading. Many times she found it staring very intently at the screen, the spring green orbs that served as its eyes frighteningly still and unblinking as it read through a page; then, with a single jerky, surprisingly impatient motion, it would turn the page with its stylus and once more fall still.

Despite the many jokes that people made of its host and its puppy-like behaviors, Ramen was surprisingly – and in some ways terrifyingly – intelligent. Perhaps it guessed that Angela was beginning to “hear” their voices for she began to “hear” it reading – as if reading to her.

It was polite enough to not do so when it knew that she was working or doing something that required all of her focus, but she could still occasionally hear it mutter to itself as it read a variety of subjects.

At first it was just the news and then it accessed the e-books that Athena had on file. It told her – through email, as it always had – that it had no interest in Genji’s e-books and online manga so it had been reading the news and various Wikipedia articles. At her frown, it assured her that it was very well aware that Wikipedia was incredibly unreliable, but what was read was at least interesting even if it may be a lie.

So Angela gave it access to her online library, which included medical journals and some of her personal books.

Ramen read through it in two weeks.

(It later admitted to Angela that while it was fascinated with medical and scientific journals, it simply wasn’t  _ interested _ in reading too much about biotics or the human body. Ramen was thousands of years old after all, and in the past had been bound to many different people who had all had their different interests. Anatomy of any kind no longer held any interest for it and it was outright distressed at reading too deeply into biotics or cyborg enhancements after the physical and emotional agony that it and Genji had gone through.)

Athena gave it a list of books whose copyright information had expired and was available online in pdf files. These Ramen “read” to her at night, its body serving as a gentle green nightlight until she fell asleep. In the morning it continued, carrying around the lightweight data-pad in its claws as it trailed after Angela.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Ziegler,” Genji said one morning, sounding distressed for once when he saw her at breakfast. “Ramen-”

“Is no bother,” Dr. Ziegler finished. She tickled its dewlap while it seemed to grin smugly at its host. She cocked her head to the side a little too innocently as Hanzo hid his smile behind his mug and McCree shoved his mouth full of pancakes so he wouldn’t laugh. “Why, is Ramen causing issues with  _ you _ ?”

Hanzo seems to have gotten a hold of himself as he lowered his mug. “Ramen is excited to have access to the internet,” he said serenely and Genji squinted suspiciously at his brother.

“It’s been reading things out loud,” Genji said, turning to frown at Angela. “At night. Late at night. And in the mornings at breakfast. _ And  _ it hasn’t returned to its binding tattoos at night.”

Honestly concerned now, Angela ran her fingers down the silky orange-gold fur along Ramen’s spine. “Is that a bad thing?”

Both brothers shrugged almost in unison. “They get into trouble if they’re out too long,” Genji said.

**No more than the both of you did as children,** Udon said grumpily where it was draped across Hanzo’s shoulders.

Soba and Ramen made no comment, the former gnawing on McCree’s prosthetic arm like a cat with its favorite toy and the latter tapping its tablet to resume reading.  **He’s just jealous because he doesn’t understand the depth of literature I am reading,** Ramen sniffed and twined its tail around Angela’s elbow.

“Stop it,” Genji hissed at it. “Come back.”

**No!**

McCree shoveled another whole pancake into his mouth. “If you keep eating like that, you’re going to choke,” Angela told him. “And I hope you are eating fruit for breakfast as well?”

“Does jam count?”

“No,” Hanzo and Angela told him at the same time.

Grumbling, McCree stood (lifting Soba as well, who had tangled itself around his prosthetic like a strange cross between a python and a cat) and walked into the kitchen. “I’m putting whipped cream though!”

“You’re sweet enough, dearest,” Hanzo yelled back.

There was silence for a moment. “Aww,” McCree said from the kitchen. “You do care!”

Shaking her head, Angela took a bite of her breakfast, letting her other hand rest on Ramen’s small shoulders as it toyed with its tablet. She jumped when Ramen disappeared into a cloud of mist. “I apologize that it had been bothering you,” Genji said tightly. “I will endeavor to keep a close eye on it in the future.”

Hanzo was frowning at his brother and Udon’s jaw was cracked open in an expression that Angela thought was annoyed. Its dewlap was extended and its ears pinned back, its whiskers arched forward.

“Ramen had not been bothering me,” Angela told him firmly. “I do in fact, enjoy having it keeping me company in Medical. If  _ you _ do not like it to be apart from you then that is for you to discuss with it; do not use me as an excuse for your loneliness.” She scooped up her breakfast in one hand and Ramen’s tablet and stylus in the other. “I will be in my office if anyone needs me.”

* * *

She was surprised around lunchtime by a knock on the door. It was McCree, wearing all three Shimada dragons like some kind of wild animal tamer. Hana came in behind him carrying a tray loaded with covered dishes, a pot, and a hot plate.

“Hot pot!” McCree told her excitedly at her confused expression.

“Not in my office!” Angela protested.

Hana rolled her eyes. “I don’t have space in mine,” she complained. “And Genji would steal it if we had it in the common areas! Besides, we need to talk about secrets!”

To Angela’s surprise all three dragons nodded excitedly, their whiskers fluttering with the motions.  **I can see why cats like the sunlight,** Udon said.

**The birds are annoying though,** Soba added.

Seeing the look of confusion on her face, McCree grinned and lifted a finger (and Udon who had curled around that arm) to his lips. “Secrets,” he said in an exaggerated whisper. “Come on, we can go to my room.”

Hana turned and marched out with a maniacal grin while McCree (and his burden of spirit dragons) waited for Angela to turn her monitor off and follow, curious despite herself. As an afterthought, Angela scooped up Ramen’s tablet and stylus and saw it bob its head excitedly.

**Can I chase the birds?** Ramen asked.  **Like the cats do?**

**You will get feathers everywhere if you catch one,** Udon said grumpily.  **And Bastion will be unhappy with you.**

“What’s going on?” Angela asked.

McCree grinned at her. “Secrets and mischief,” he told her cheerfully. “Come on, we’re almost there.” When they reached his door, he tapped in the code and let Hana in first who set her burden down with an exaggerated sigh. Hanzo, who stood in the living area, raised his brows as all of them entered. “Hey sweetling,” McCree said, leaning in for a quick kiss. “We’re borrowing the room, ‘kay?”

Rolling his eyes, Hanzo settled his quiver over his shoulders and lifted his practice bow. He wore a long-sleeved compression shirt that somehow seemed to highlight his muscles even more. “Don’t make a mess,” he said, patting McCree’s cheek fondly. “I’ll be at the outdoor range.”

He nodded as he passed Angela and closed the door behind him; a moment later she heard the automatic locks engage.

**Can we go swimming?** Soba asked.

**I want to see a shark,** Ramen said.

Udon snorted.

“I’m suspicious now,” Angela said, crossing her arms over her chest. She unwound them when Ramen lifted off of McCree’s shoulders and “swam” through the air toward her. It tapped her nose with its own and opened its mouth in what she now recognized as its equivalent of an impish smirk. She shifted her grip on it and tickled her fingers into the soft scaly skin of its dewlap. It tossed its head as if it tickled and nipped – gently – at her fingers. “What are you up to?”

Hana smirked from where she and McCree were clearing the living room table and setting out plates and bowls and utensils. “Hot pot!” she said with a too-innocent smile. “And revenge.”

“Zenyatta is keeping Genji distracted,” McCree explained. “And Hanzo is helping him.”

“Why?” Angela asked suspiciously.

**It will be fun,** Soba said, drifting into the air and making figure-eights above McCree’s head excitedly.  **We do not need to breathe so it will be fine if we dive down, yes? And we could find a shark.**

Hana stirred the pot with a smug feline smile on her face. “So McCree says that Ramen likes to read but Mr. Cyborg Ninja Dude is being mean, right? It’ll be like the last time he was mean about Ramen and its email. Only this time we won’t plaster the walls with furry art.”

“We ain’t?” McCree asked, gently stabbing a piece of meat indelicately with his skewer. He sounded almost disappointed.

“We don’t need another safety meeting,” Angela said dryly. 

Reunited with its tablet and stylus, Ramen tapped away, sending excited emails and bringing up a lot of questionable pictures as suggestions despite their protests.

“Eat first!” Hana declared, striking a dramatic pose. 

Then Ramen froze, an odd expression on its face. (To be fair, all of the expressions it attempted were rather odd, lacking a malleable face to express.)

They all looked down at their comms as a new email came through:

> **From:** Not_Ramen@Overwatch.org   
>  **To:** D.Va@Overwatch.org, McCree@Overwatch.org, Angela_Ziegler@Overwatch.org   
>  **Subject:** !!

Shipping!

Remembering that conversation, Angela’s face flushed bright red. “What about it?” Hana asked as Ramen tapped away at its tablet. “Hey, did you know that you could use an instant chat on that?”

Ramen cocked its head to the side and tapped away at the screen. Athena’s logo covered the screen for a moment before bringing up a messaging app.

> **Not_Ramen created a new private group** **  
> ** **From Not_Ramen** : THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING

“What’s shipping?” McCree asked and Udon and Soba bobbed their heads in agreement, unable to ask themselves as it would risk giving away their mischief.

Hana snorted, her thumbs flying over her phone. “Shipping is when you pair two people together,” she explained. “Usually they’re fictional characters but sometimes they’re actors or other famous figures. Based on their interactions, fans will usually pair them together or imagine some kind of relationship between them –  _ aha! _ ” She turned her phone around and held it out, showing a picture of Hanzo and McCree with a crude heart drawn over them. “My stream, for example, ships Hanzo and McCree.”

Scratching the back of his head, McCree said, “But Han and I are together.  _ Actually together _ .”

“My stream doesn’t know that,” Hana said. “They saw you for a few minutes and thought your interactions meant more and were very into it. I get a lot more viewers whenever I announce that either of you are going to be featured on the stream.”

She flipped through a few pictures, a few showing screenshots of Hanzo and McCree together over Hana’s shoulder while others were pictures of the two of them in various styles and poses. The dragons scrambled up McCree’s arms to look down at the screen, bobbing their heads as seriously as a panel of judges critiquing art.

“Is it sad that I’ve gotten used to this?” McCree asked, moving an arm to stir his skewer in the hot pot. Soba, who had been on that arm, drifted upwards like a balloon, tethered by the curl of its long tail around McCree’s elbow.

Hana took the phone back and swiped a few times. “There are  _ a lot _ of pictures,” she admitted. “Some of them are mentally scarring since I know you both and work with you on a daily basis but I must say, my fans got  _ talent _ .”

“Shipping has been around since the first Overwatch,” Angela pointed out, fumbling a little with her skewers. She pouted when a chunk of turnip slipped off and disappeared into the bubbling liquid. A slice of squid followed quickly and she pulled it back and away to fix it. “Ramen found some of the old message boards about that.”

McCree snapped his fingers. “I remember those,” he said. “There were a lot about the poster boys. Rein and Morrison,” he clarified when Hana made a curious noise. “You should look up some of the old recruitment posters. There was  _ a lot _ of fans and  _ a lot _ of fan art for the two of them.”

Giggling, Hana’s fingers flew over the screen of her phone and McCree reached over to load a skewer up for her. “Thanks, gramps,” she teased.

Soba tugged itself down and peered at the skewers. It watched, its ears pricked forward in interest, as McCree pulled his first cooked skewer out, pushed his food off, and began sliding on another load to cook. When he was done, he scratched under its jaw the way it liked and it grinned at him, leaning into the scritches.

“ _ Ohmygosh! _ ” Hana exclaimed and they all jumped. “Dr. Ziegler, they used to ship you and Genji?” she squinted at the screen. “Or…well, ‘cyborg ninja dude’ and I  _ assume _ that is Genji.”

“There aren’t a lot of cyborg ninjas,” Angela said dryly. “I have no idea  _ why _ because we were rarely seen with each other, but I’ve since learned not to question it too much.”

Hana giggled as she scrolled through. McCree snorted when Soba stole a bite of beef and spat it out into a small bowl of sauce so that it splattered everywhere. “Why you would do that when you don’t eat and can’t taste, I’ll never know,” he teased and made a kissy face at Soba. He yelped when Soba nipped his nose (gently, of course).

Udon drifted away to drape itself over the back of Hana’s chair to look over her shoulder as she scrolled and Ramen returned to its tablet.

“You know…” McCree said. “After the thing in Venice I think there was some fan art about Genji as well.” Everyone looked up at him. He wiggled his fingers. “Cyborg ninja dude. Mysterious cowboy. You know how it is.”

Hana squealed when she found pictures. “This!” she exclaimed and showed the table the pictures she had found.

They all jumped when they received a new message from Ramen.

****

> **From Not_Ramen:**  
>  have you guys heard of fanfiction?

* * *

Genji knew something was up and he had no idea why the entire universe seemed to conspire against him.

First Zenyatta’s meditation lasted much longer than usual and if he didn’t know better, he would have thought that his master had shut off into stasis-mode.

_ Then _ , apparently Hanzo had thought it a good idea to release his dragons (and Ramen, who he had  _ supposed _ to have been watching) during some outdoor range practice (aka running around in the nearby reserve and beach, scaling cliffs and rocks and shooting at random non-living things) and they had gotten it into their heads to go  _ diving _ . Genji had been tempted to let them go and let Hanzo deal with it but even as lackadaisical as he had been in the past, he knew that he owed it to Ramen to not be a complete ass.

For a long stretch of time after all, Ramen had been all he had.

But hunting down the stray dragons – who had, for all intents and purposes, dove into the sea to look for sharks – proved to be far more difficult than either of them had anticipated. The current wasn’t terribly strong but the waves beating up against the stones made it difficult for them to get too close to the water and the dragons wouldn’t be anywhere near the nearest beach (which wasn’t very near at all).

Eventually the dragons returned, skimming the surface of the water from the direction of the open ocean, dancing and darting above the waves like dolphins. Genji was torn between annoyance and relief – and a nervousness at the impression that Ramen was  _ smug _ about something…

If Hanzo was likewise receiving similar impressions from his dragons, he said nothing of it and they returned to the base in comfortable silence. They found McCree and Hana in the kitchen washing dishes and putting away the electric hot plate. Zenyatta sat at the dining room table as well and waved when Genji walked in.

“Did I miss hot pot?” Genji complained.

“There may be some in the refrigerator,” Zenyatta said.

Genji groaned dramatically and threw himself into a chair. “It’s not the same!” he declared, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead.

“Naw, I ate it all,” McCree said. “What?” he asked when Hana snorted. “I was hungry! A growing boy’s gotta eat!”

“But you don’t gotta grow  _ outward! _ ” Hana teased.

Putting his bow and quiver down at the table, Hanzo wrapped his arms around McCree’s waist from behind. “I like that he grows,” he said, pressing a kiss between McCree’s shoulder blades.

“Eew!” Hana squealed, flinging dishwater and suds at them. “Gross!”

Genji likewise groaned, cradling his head in his hands. “It was bad enough having to chase our dragons but now this? Betrayal!”

“Where did your dragons go?” Zenyatta asked.

Groaning, Genji sat up. “They went looking for sharks.” 

“I don’t think they found any,” Hanzo said with an odd note to his voice. 

For a long moment, Genji stared at all of them in turn. “I did something, didn’t I?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer he would receive.

“Yup,” McCree said glibly, laughing when Hana splashed dishwater at him again. 

“You will learn in time,” Zenyatta said serenely. Perhaps it was meant to be reassuring but all Genji could do was groan and let his head fall to the table. 

* * *

The worst part, Genji decided a few days later, was that there was no way of stopping the dragons’ incessant chatter. They didn’t need to sleep or eat and they could not be ordered unless it was by their host (and even then they didn’t have too much power over them). 

And clearly Hanzo was trying to kill him for real this time, driving him to insanity.

“Wow,” Mei said at the dinner table one night after the most awkward rendition of smutty fanfiction featuring an in-depth analysis  _ of his brother and best friend in bondage _ .  _ Ugh! _ “Soba, Udon, where are you reading that?” 

There was dead silence in the kitchen. Reinhardt coughed. “It reminds me of romance novels.”

“The shitty ones you find in convenience stores next to the alcohol,” Ana added dryly. 

McCree burst into laughter at the horrified looks that Hanzo and Genji shared with each other. A moment later,  _ everyone at the table _ covered their ears as if trying to muffle the excited shrieks the three honored spirits let out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks as always to Lyall_Lupa, who I am too lazy to link to, who listened to all of my whining and crazy ideas. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry ~~not really~~ , tinyforestshark, for dropping _fun stuff_ in DMs and then abandoning you to write aggressively _much more pg stuff_. 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who has been enjoying this. I'm so glad to see that you are all enjoying it and I'm sorry that I haven't been updating this as often as I used to. With the coming of the miserable summer heat, work is picking up and I have a _super secret project_ that I should start and not procrastinate about. 
> 
> Feel free to come and visit/yell at me on tumblr at [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com). 
> 
> ~DC


	19. Liquor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Cecil
> 
> Okay, but for real this time. I'm putting this on the side and working on another project. 
> 
> I wanted to try something different and it immediately ran away from me. Hopefully you find it amusing at least.

Cecil was halfheartedly mopping the floors when the large metal bell attached to the door by a leather cord clanked. A man he didn’t recognize entered, but that wasn’t much of an unusual thing: they were a small town but a good amount of tourists wandered through.

“Hello,” the man said hesitantly with an accent he couldn’t quite place. But then, Cecil hadn’t been one to wander very far from home.

Unless you counted moving from Argentina to Spain, but  _ he _ certainly didn’t.

“Good morning,” Cecil replied, dunking the mop back in its bucket and shoving it away.

The man glanced around and Cecil couldn’t help but preen a little. They were a small town but everyone had their vices and the visiting tourists meant that his shop could expand a little. It wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but Cecil was happy and he was doing well enough.

“Can I help you find anything?” Cecil asked, debating if he should switch to English. This man had the look of a tourist, or at least someone that didn’t belong in their small town near the Rock.

The man didn’t seem to find it a hardship to follow along. “Liquor,” he said dryly and Cecil laughed.

He waved his hand to the shelves around them. “Plenty of that here, friend.  _ What’s your poison? _ ” the last he said in English, mocking the bartenders he always saw in American movies.

The man smiled like it was an expression foreign to him. “I prefer rice wine,” he says in Spanish. It’s good Spanish so Cecil doesn’t object, even if the accent is very odd. He can’t quite place it – it’s not quite a different dialect but it could also be an accent carried over by the man himself. “But I can be persuaded to other things if you don’t have it.”

Cecil rubbed his hand along his chin thoughtfully. “We have a lot of regional wines,” he said. “And beer. Those are what most people want: beer for the beach and wine for lunch and dinner.”

“Or breakfast,” the man said, looking like he was only half joking.

“My kind of man,” Cecil replied with a laugh. “I find wine sometimes makes the best breakfast! Or a sparkling blueberry wine with fluffy American pancakes.” His father used to make it that way; his mother used to joke that it was the only way to get their family to shut up for longer than five seconds.

The man’s smile was shaky but didn’t quite reach his eyes as if afraid to give in. “If you have a sweet red, I wouldn’t be opposed,” he allowed. “And maybe I can be convinced to the sparkling blueberry as well. At the moment however, I am looking for liquor.”

Cecil led the way down one of the aisles even though the shop itself was rather small. “You look like a whiskey kind of person,” he teased. “Something with a kick to the mouth.” Cecil laughed at the face the strange man made. “I kid! No, you seem like the kind of man that drinks alcohol that’s more like cleaner. I have just the thing!” he pretended not to see the guilty look on the man’s face and pulled a bottle off the shelf to offer it to the man who had by then schooled his expression into neutrality.

“I will take your suggestion,” the man said as well as a bottle of plain vodka. “As well as this.”

“I can take that to the front for you if you would like to look around a bit?” Cecil suggested.

The man shook his head. “That will be it, thank you.”

They walked to the front, Cecil rang up his items, and handed the man a bag. When he went to pick it up, the man frowned and looked down into the bag. “On the house,” Cecil explained as the man pulled out a half-bottle of sweet red wine.

“Thank you,” the man said quietly with a short bow and left.

Even though he wasn’t looking, Cecil waved until he couldn’t see the man anymore. He  _ really _ didn’t want to go back to mopping imaginary stains.

* * *

Cecil was in the back room halfheartedly watching an old kid’s movie on a tiny TV when the front door swung open, those terrible bells sounding more like someone banging a stick against a car door. He stood up immediately: there was only one person that kicked open the door that excitedly.

“ _ Cheers love! _ ” Lena exclaimed in English as she burst in.

“ _ Good morning! _ ” Cecil replied, not yet feeling her enthusiasm. To his surprise, he found the stranger from the other week as well, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there at the moment. “And hello to you too, stranger!”

“Hello,” the man said.

At the same time, Lena said in English, “ _ Not sure he speaks Spanish, love. _ ”

The man grunted, his lips twitching. “ _ Is that so? _ ” Cecil asked in the same language. “ _ We had a lovely conversation the last time he was here. Maybe I was imagining it? _ ”

“ _ We’re here to pick up an order _ ,” the man said. Cecil really needed to learn his name. “ _ And I would like to try some of that blueberry champagne if you have any. _ ”

“ _ Sparkling wine, _ ” Cecil corrected automatically. “ _ It’s not made in France. _ ” He glanced at Lena. “ _ And what order? I didn’t receive anything. _ ”

It was a struggle not to laugh at the stricken look on Lena’s face. Her hands leaped to her mouth and the man looked to be struggled as much as Cecil was not to laugh. He disappeared down the aisle that Cecil had pointed him down the other week.

“Blueberry sparkling wine is on your right at the end of the aisle,” Cecil called after him and heard a faint  _ thank you _ in response. “ _ Now, missy, _ ” he said to Lena. “ _ What about this order? _ ”

“ _ You didn’t get our order? _ ” she squeaked. “ _ I thought I sent it in! _ ” Unable to help it, Cecil cracked and laughed. She punched him in the shoulder. “ _ You ass! _ ”

Cecil jerked a thumb toward the storeroom he had just left. “ _ It’s back there, just let me get it for you. _ ”

In the end it took all three of them to load the cases of special-ordered beer and wine into the back of Lena’s hover truck. The man rolled up the sleeves of his tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt – which he wore despite the humid summer heat – as he worked, revealing a long tattoo of a snarling blue snake. Or maybe it was a dragon.

The man caught Cecil peering at it and looked away as if ashamed, pulling his sleeves back down. “Sorry, I just couldn’t make out the design,” Cecil told him.

“It is nothing,” the man said and lifted another case of beer with a grunt.

Cecil dropped the subject and went back inside for the next load of beer. “ _ Sorry about Hanzo _ ,” Lena said when he walked out next. The man was nowhere to be seen. “ _ He’s… _ ” she hesitated.

Seeing her hesitation, Cecil shook his head. They were toeing the line with the subjects best left unspoken between them, especially out in the street as they were. “ _ I am not upset by him _ ,” Cecil assured her. “ _ I was staring and clearly the tattoo has some significance to him. It looks like a beautiful piece and it’s a shame that he covers it, but if it causes him distress then I don’t want to upset him. _ ”

Lena was quiet for a long moment and when Cecil looked up, he found her staring at him. “ _ You’re really something, aren’t you? _ ” Cecil snorted. “ _ It’s his family crest or inspired by it. They’re…um… _ estranged _ , if you know what I mean. _ ”

It took Cecil a moment to get the meaning (really, who uses  _ estranged _ ?) but he nodded and said nothing more. He didn’t want Lena to give away more than she should. Don’t get him wrong, she was a sweetheart and lovely to talk to, but sometimes secrets were her downfall – especially if they were personal secrets.

“ _ That looks like the last of it, _ ” Cecil said as they loaded the last case and closed the tailgate.

They found Lena’s friend, both sleeves still rolled down, as Lena was paying for the beers. He had a basket with a few bottles of wine and liquor hanging from one arm. “ _ Oh, _ ” Lena exclaimed when she saw him. “ _ I had thought you went to the next place. Add that to my total. _ ”

“I will pay for this myself,” the man told Cecil gravely.

Lena rolled her eyes. “ _ He said he’s paying for it himself didn’t he? _ ” Lena demanded. Cecil shrugged. “ _ Cecil! _ ”

“ _ I don’t speak English _ ,” he replied.

Rolling her eyes, Lena paid and accepted the receipt he handed her. “ _ I’ll be off at the next place, _ ” she told the man. “ _ Since you two are ganging up on me. _ ” Cecil blinked and she was at the door with a flare of blue. The man across the counter flinched and Cecil caught the basket before it could tip off the edge. “ _ Bye Cecil! I’ll put another order in for next week! _ ”

Cecil waved and winced when the door jangled. “I need a new bell,” he mused to himself. “I hate the sound of that one.” Looking back at the man, he seemed almost nervous, his eyes flicking between Cecil and Lena. “Oh,” he said, realizing the reason for his stare. “She’s not very good at secrets, poor thing. I don’t think she does it on purpose either. You get used to it eventually though.”

The man was quiet as Cecil rang up his bottles and didn’t seem to notice the nips of liquor he tucked in the bag with his purchases. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “And…I’m sorry about earlier.”

He seemed surprised when Cecil waved it off. “You see a lot of interesting people when you work retail,” he said dryly. “Even in a town as quiet as this one. But it clearly has some kind of significance to you and even though tattoos are art on the body, that doesn’t mean that everyone has the right to demand to see it. It was a beautiful piece though.”

The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. “Thank you,” he repeated quietly with a half bow. He picked up his bag and left.

Cecil waved until he couldn’t see the man anymore and as he turned around to go back to the storeroom he found Dr. Roach – his arch nemesis and honestly one of probably fifty – in the middle of the vodka/gin/rum/tequila/liqueur aisle. Grabbing the broom – one of almost twenty he kept around the store – he brandished it like a sword. Dr. Roach eyed him right back. “Come here, you bastard!”

* * *

True to her word, Lena placed another order for more beer and Cecil called in a few favors to have her request delivered by the time she asked to pick it up. Deciding to splurge a little for a bit of fun, he also added wine- and beer-making kits to his order. These he set up in the store, the jug for the wine behind the counter and the jug for the beer in the store room. He was just coming back out when he found Lena and her helper pulling up in front.

To his brief disappointment it wasn’t the strange man, but it was an omnic with a green visor, dressed in clothes that were far too bright for the bright summer sunlight.

“ _ It’s so hot! _ ” the omnic complained in a masculine voice as it walked into the shop. The bells clanked sadly and Lena giggled. Two pieces around the omnic’s shoulders, hidden by the obnoxious pink shirt it wore, lifted and hissed out what appeared to be steam.

“ _ Cecil! _ ” Lena exclaimed. “ _ You better have my order, you bastard! _ ”

Cecil laughed. “ _ I threw it out, _ ” he told her. He laughed again when she showed him both middle fingers. “ _ The last of it came in about an hour ago. _ ”

For a moment, Lena looked surprised. “ _ Was it difficult to get everything? _ ” she asked, sounding a little guilty.

“ _ I made a few calls, _ ” Cecil said vaguely. “ _ The beer mafia may come to break my kneecaps, but you and your friends will have their beer! _ ”

Lena laughed as she meant to and the omnic did as well. “ _ I like your humor! _ ” the omnic said and offered a hand to shake. “ _ I am Genji _ .”

The name matched the faint accent, or at least Cecil thought it did. And with that thought came the realization that the accent sounded very similar – but not exactly the same – as the stranger that Lena had brought the previous time. The one that she had called…um…Hanz? Hanzon? Hazo?

Cecil made a mental note to ask later. It was rather rude of him not to know. He knew  _ all _ of his regulars and the man gave him the impression that he would be there quite often.

“ _ Cecil _ ,” he said to the omnic.

“ _ A pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Lena. _ ”

“ _ All lies, _ ” Cecil told him. “ _ I am not the monster she paints me. _ ”

Genji laughed and they all set about loaded the hover truck. With the omnic’s, it moved a lot quicker than they had the last time Lena came by, but Cecil didn’t comment.

“ _ I heard that you have a very good blueberry champagne _ ,” the omnic said when they were finished and walking back inside. “ _ A…friend of mine used it to make blueberry pancakes and they were  _ heavenly _. _ ”

“ _ Sparkling wine, _ ” Cecil corrected automatically. “ _ It’s not from France. _ ” He wondered if the other man – Harner? Haro? He was sure it started with an H – had made it. He didn’t ask though, knowing better than to tempt Lena to give away any more secrets. At the same time, he wondered what kind of omnic could eat and taste but didn’t want to ask that either, unsure if it was a rude question or not. “ _ But yes, I do. _ ”

“ _ Also, do you have any  _ sake _? _ ” the omnic asked.

Lena snorted. “ _ You and your  _ sake _! There are other things to drink! _ ”

“ _ I’m afraid I don’t have any  _ sake _ , _ ” Cecil said with a chuckle. “ _ But I can certainly order you some…I just won’t know right away when it will come in. _ ”

Genji swiveled his head to look at him, looking almost excited. How an omnic could do that with a static faceplate Cecil will never know, but it was one of the most endearing things about omnics, he found. “ _ I would like to order two cases, in that case. And I would like a case of that blueberry sparkling wine. _ ”

“ _ So demanding, _ ” Cecil teased. “ _ I’ll see if I have a case in the back that’s already packed. _ ” The omnic followed him to the back and waited outside, looking at the brightly-colored wall of drink mixes. When Cecil came out with a half-packed case (only missing a few bottles which they could take from the shelves) he found the omnic holding a few bottles of these and he snorted. “ _ I’ll just fill these with the bottles on the shelves. If you and your friends like this so much then I’ll have to order more! _ ”

The omnic nodded. “ _ I don’t care for bubbly wines, _ ” Lena’s voice said from the wine aisle. “ _ But the pancakes are  _ to die for.”

Cecil nodded and took the bottles from the shelf to fill the case and carrying it to the front. He rang the two of them up for their purchases, waiting patiently while Genji ran back and forth from other aisles pulling bottles and adding them. The omnic stopped when Lena threatened to leave him behind.

They propped open the door to load the rest of their purchases into Lena’s hover truck and Cecil waved until he couldn’t see them. Turning he went back to the shop and was about to fiddle around with the jugs.

Very slowly he looked up at a strange sound, like fleshy slapping. A goose rounded the corner and fluffed up when it saw him. It looked from him to his broom, which lay between them.

He held up a finger at the wretched creature and it extended its long neck higher into the air. “Don’t you dare.”

The goose honked, its eyes glittering as dark as the pits of hell. It partially spread its wings as if to appear larger in hopes of scaring Cecil away.

“ _ Perkele _ ,” Cecil yelled and lunged for the broom at the same time the goose did in a flurry of honks and flying feathers.

* * *

It was a few weeks before he saw Genji again but this time he came with the stranger whose name Cecil could  _ still _ not remember.

“ _ It’s been a while, _ ” Cecil greeted them when they walked in.

Genji laughed. “ _ You say that as if you weren’t expecting us, _ ” he said.

“Does anyone speak to you in Spanish?” the strange man grumbled.

Cecil shrugged. “It doesn’t much matter since I can speak either language. And some Finnish. My Russian’s a little rusty. It’s appreciated that you do, for what it’s worth. The other tourists all expect me to speak English.”

“ _ You better not be talking shit about me, brother, _ ” the omnic said and Cecil decided that he probably should re-think that whole omnic thing. He said nothing.

“Genji once slipped and fell into the fish pond,” the man said seriously and Cecil nodded just as gravely. “For the next year he would wake screaming that the fish were out to get him. He was sixteen.”

The omnic that might not be an omnic looked back and forth between them. “ _ I heard my name and I think I heard ‘fish’. _ ”

Cecil struggled not to laugh. “ _ I  _ do _ in fact have a shipment for you, _ ” he said. “ _ I also ordered more of that blueberry sparkling wine since the two of you seem determined to clear me out. _ ”

The man looked embarrassed but it was hard to tell with Genji, who didn’t seem to have a face. Surely he was an omnic then? Perhaps it was just a figure of speech? Cecil wasn’t sure.

In the end the two of them left with a case and a half of  _ sake _ , a case of some kind of beer that neither of them seemed the type to drink, a bottle of nice whiskey that Genji teased his brother about, and two cases of sparkling wine.

Cecil learned that the strange man’s name was Hanzo (he was close…well, he at least go the H and he resolved to remember his name from now on) and Genji really  _ was _ his brother – flesh and blood once but now with cybernetic enhancements. He didn’t ask any more because there was an odd set to Hanzo’s lips when Genji breezily told him this.

But they paid and they spoke cheerfully to him. Genji learned that Hanzo had shared an embarrassing story with him earlier and told him about the time that as a child Genji had shoved Hanzo’s face into a cake because he was jealous that Hanzo got the chocolate one and not him.

Hanzo retaliated by elaborating on the fish story. He told Cecil that in May silk  _ koi _ kites (Cecil resolved to look this up later, not quite sure what exactly he was talking about) were flown and the year after the incident with the fish pond Genji had been unable to handle the sight of all of the kites and tried his best to remain indoors. But their father wouldn’t let him and forced him to make an appearance while Hanzo secretly filled his room with hundreds of little kite and flags and pictures of fish.

They had both gotten in trouble but Hanzo insisted that it was worth it.

When they left Cecil thought about his own siblings and wondered if it was worth it to get in contact with them. Ultimately he decided that it wasn’t worth the effort and his time was best sent elsewhere. Like swearing at the sea birds that decided to nest in his gutters while he tried to relocate them while not falling off the ladder or being pecked to death by the birds themselves.

* * *

The next time Cecil saw Hanzo, he rode to the store on the back of a motorcycle with someone that Cecil didn’t recognize and didn’t look happy about it.

“Hi Cecil,” Hanzo said and Cecil poked his head up over the counter to see who it was before waving vaguely and ducking back under.

“ _ What’s up, now? _ ” the new man said. He had a strong American accent with a twang so Southern maybe. Or Midwest. Cecil was never really sure.

Cecil looked up and found both of them leaning over the counter. “Sorry,” he said. “I think this thing sprung a leak and I’m trying not to get wine everywhere. Give me a sec and I’ll be right with you.”

“ _ Ah, _ ” the new man said. “ _ He said-” _

“Do you need any help?” Hanzo asked. “What’s leaking?”

“ _ Oh  _ bless,” the new man breathed and Cecil glanced up at the both of them. The man had stars in his eyes as he stared at Hanzo but Hanzo seemed oblivious and Cecil was kind enough to not mention it.

He peeked back under and swore when he saw that another leak had sprung and the jug was now sitting in a puddle of dark liquid. “I tried my hand at winemaking,” he told his audience. “But the jug I bought seems to have begun leaking.”

Hanzo wandered around the corner. “Oh,” he said. “You don’t have a way to release the pressure. When yeast consume sugar and turn it into alcohol, there is a gaseous byproduct. Completely sealing the jug will result in it becoming pressurized from all of the gas and if there are any weak seams, they break and cause leaks.”

The strange man made an equally strange noise and Cecil glanced up to find him biting his lip. Shaking his head, Cecil pointed to the supply closet hidden by the small humidor he kept. “Would you be so kind as to get me a bucket? I have a mop in there too and a few rags.” Hanzo nodded and opened the door and Cecil turned to the strange man. “Close your mouth, boy, or you’ll let the flies in.”

Surprised, the man’s mouth snapped shut.

“You’re drooling too,” Cecil pointed out and the man flushed bright red despite his dark skin. “Just tell him you’re chasing his skirts. He appreciates honesty.”

Neither of them said anything as Hanzo returned. Cecil dumped the soaked rags in his hands in the bucket and used the new ones Hanzo handed him to soak up the remaining wine.

The new man introduced himself in accented Spanish as Joel with the hesitance of someone giving a fake name. He flinched under the  _ look _ Cecil gave him but neither of them said anything further.

“Well,” Cecil said almost a half hour later. His hands were stained bright red, as were Hanzo and Joel’s, the floor, and the cabinets where he had kept the wine. “I kind of like the look of it, actually.”

Joel nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe a darker berry next time over here,” he said, gesturing to the cabinet next to it. “You could make a splatter effect. It would look nice in a liquor store and match your aesthetic.”

“I’ll consider it,” Cecil said with a snort. He walked to one of the refrigerated coolers and pulled out a wine cooler for Hanzo and two beers for himself and Joel. “On the house, boys.” They murmured their thanks and joined him on the porch out back for a bit.

By the time they left with their purchases (greatly reduced given that they both arrived on a motorcycle), they had been at Cecil’s shop for over three hours.

“God,” Cecil muttered to himself and then dove into the shop, slamming the door shut as a flock of geese landed in the parking lot. “ _ Perkele! _ ” he snapped, shaking his fist at the geese who honked rudely back. “I hope they fuck soon – I can’t handle another few hours of that.”

* * *

Hanzo was back in a few days, alone this time, and had a small crate that he could attach to the back of the motorcycle. He also wanted to make an order for more  _ sake _ and sparkling wine.

“Blueberry pancakes,” was all Hanzo said and Cecil nodded understandingly. “Also, I will be away next week so I wanted to get my visit in now.”

It hadn’t occurred to Cecil that Hanzo may have been visiting for the company as well and he smiled. They spoke for a while, pausing only when Cecil had to ring up a family of rude American tourists.

Cecil learned that Hanzo was leaving on a ‘business trip’ to England and mentioned off-handedly that he  _ thought _ he may have a brother or a nephew there that ran a liquor store. He suggested that Hanzo ask them if they knew a ‘Cecil’ and if they said ‘yes’, ask them what number they were – a private joke among his family.

He was almost smug when Hanzo returned a week later with Lena, who marveled that she had  _ always _ gone to that liquor store with her girlfriend and never knew that she obliquely knew the owner! They delivered a letter as well and joked that now they were a mail service but only for Cecil.

As thanks he gave Hanzo another wine cooler and Lena a chocolate stout beer. They were about to sit out on the back porch but had to stop when the sea birds decided to attack, still salty (ha!) about him moving their nest.

“ _ I hate birds _ ,” Cecil told them solemnly and they both laughed.

“ _ Birds hate you too, _ ” Lena told him and they tapped the necks of their bottles together.

* * *

Genji was the next one to visit. “ _ I swear to God _ ,” he told Cecil as he stomped in. “ _ I can’t  _ handle _ those two. _ ”

“ _ Hanzo and ‘Joel’? _ ” Cecil asked because that was all he could think about.

The cyborg flopped down on a chair that Cecil had forgotten to put back outside. “ _ We’re all doing a supply run, _ ” he added. “ _ I figured it would be quieter here. _ ”

“ _ I see _ ,” Cecil said and didn’t ask why everyone was doing a supply run.

He got his answer anyway when Genji said, “ _ They want to have Thanksgiving _ .”

“ _ A good American holiday, _ ” Cecil joked. “ _ In Gibraltar. _ ”

Genji laughed. “ _ Everyone is bickering, _ ” he told Cecil. “ _ Jess- ah… _ Joel _ and…um… _ Jack _ accidentally volunteered themselves for it so they’re in charge of all of the food. _ ”

“ _ Bless their poor hearts _ ,” Cecil said in his best imitation of a Southern gentleman. He was fairly certain that it didn’t work very well and that was why Genji laughed as loud as he did. The vents on his shoulders hissed steam and Cecil found himself chuckling as well.

“ _ I hope they ordered turkeys ahead of time _ ,” Cecil said after a moment. 

Genji shrugged. “ _ Probably not. _ ”

“ _ Nothing says ‘Thanksgiving’ like turkey _ ,” Cecil told him. “ _ But may I recommend goose instead? I have a few birds out back that would just  _ love _ to go home with you. _ ”

Genji laughed as if he were joking and Cecil sighed, knowing that he was stuck with them for a while longer. 

When his laughter died down, Genji sighed and leaned back in the chair, tangling his fingers behind his white and silver helm. Cecil took his phone out of his pocket.

The chair broke.

Cecil took a picture for Hanzo later.

* * *

Hanzo laughed himself silly when he saw the photo.

It was the happiest Cecil had seen him since he met the man. Except when he was looking at “Joel” of course.

He offered Hanzo the color prints that he had made after Genji had left that day and Hanzo doubled over as he accepted one of them and slid it into the pouch at his waist.

When Cecil helped Hanzo load the car with liquor, he could have sworn he saw something moving under Hanzo’s shirt and jacket but when he looked again, the cloth lay flat.

* * *

Cecil was rearranging the shelves and thinking of buying  _ sake _ outside of the orders placed by Hanzo and Genji when he saw a flash of blue behind him. When he turned he found a…blue lizard floating in the air in front of him.

_ Floating _ .

“It’s almost enough to get me to quit drinking,” he said to no one in particular. Perhaps it was even to the creature in front of him. “If only I drank enough to hallucinate. But I never much cared for licorice and I’m not sure that modern absinthe has wormwood anyway.”

The creature cocked its head to the side not unlike a cat. It floated as if in water, its long lizard-like legs hanging in the air so that he could see its long toes. Despite its lizard-like appearance – not unlike the iguanas he remembered seeing as a child – the creature had two long ears like a horse and a shining golden mane instead of scaly spines. Its long tail curled in the air behind it, tipped with a large tuft of fur. It had two long whiskers that floated like its mane and tail as if suspended in water, twisting and curling in and around itself as if living creatures on their own. In all it was a few meters long but it was hard to tell given how much it curled in on itself, and would be about as tall as a small dog if it were standing properly.

_ Instead of floating in front of him _ .

“Can I get you anything?” he asked it and it shook its head ‘no’. “Alright. Don’t cause any trouble, now, or I will have to beat you like I beat the geese.”

The strange creature floated around after him, disappearing into a dark corner when other customers came in. It was joined shortly afterwards by another, this one a little larger, a few shades darker (and did he mention that they were  _ blue? _ Undeniably  _ blue _ – as blue as the sky? The sea?). It had a little tuft of a beard, just as gold as its mane and tail and looked at him not unlike a pampered cat.

Both followed him, bobbing their heads and arching and swooping in the air around him as they followed him around.

After some time he gathered the courage to try to touch one of them. Their scales were cool and smooth and they rubbed their heads affectionately along his hands like cats begging for attention. Soon after they disappeared into a puff of blue smoke like something out of a cheesy fantasy movie and Cecil didn’t think much of it.

 

 

* * *

“ _ Hey Cecil! _ ” Tracer and Genji yelled together as they kicked open his doors. 

From where he was balancing at the top of a ladder, Cecil frowned down at them. “ _ You must be alcoholics to be returning for  _ more _ alcohol so soon! _ ” he told them. “ _ And if you had another order, then you didn’t give me time enough to see it! _ ” 

Though thinking of it, he wasn’t sure if he had checked his email since yesterday morning….maybe even the morning before.  _ Had _ they sent in an order? It was still a ridiculous task to expect something so quickly, especially in the quantities that Lena ordered. 

“ _ What are you doing up there? _ ” Genji asked.

Cecil rubbed his chin as he thought, squinting down at Lena. “Did _ you order anything? _ ”

“ _ Aww, _ ” Lena said. “ _ We just wanted to visit you! I’m going to be off to the airport - flying home to see my girlfriend for the holidays. _ ”

Snorting, Cecil began climbing down the ladder. “ _ Good on you, _ ” he said. “ _ Tell her I said hello? _ ”

Lena laughed. “ _ She’ll think I’m an alcoholic! _ ” 

“ _ You must be given all that you order, _ ” Cecil teased. “ _ But really, what brings you here? _ ”

Genji was peering up at the light he was messing with. “ _ Are you trying to change the bulb? _ ”

Sighing, Cecil rubbed the back of his neck which ached from twisting to look up. “ _ Yeah. I have a few bulbs to change out and haven’t gotten around to it. It’s a bad time to do it - everyone’s wanting their alcohol around the holidays - but I really do need to have it done. _ ”

He blinked and Genji was sitting astride the ladder. “ _ Don’t worry, _ ” he said, flapping his hand down at Hanzo. “ _ I got it. _ ”

When he turned to Lena to ask her opinion, he found that she now stood beside his front counter, which was covered with a dozen small gifts. “ _ We came to deliver gifts! _ ” she told him. They were all neatly wrapped except for one which seemed to have an inordinate amount of ribbon twisted up into confusing diamond-shaped patterns. Lena coughed. “ _ Um...it’s best not to ask. _ ”

Cecil nodded. He gave her a coffee stout on the house and allowed her to take pictures of his deadpan expression beside each gift. Most were mugs, a few were shot glasses. He promised to display them on the humidor and cleared a spot just for them. 

Just for fun he opened a bottle of cheap lychee  _ sake _ and poured them all shots. He gave the bottle to Genji who looked like a piece of his soul tore apart to accept it. As with Hanzo, it looked like the hoodie he wore over his white and silver armor seemed to move as if something lay beneath it but when he looked again it lay still. 

Behind him, there was a buzz and a snap of electricity as the bulbs that Genji had just installed exploded. 

Cecil sighed. 

* * *

The next time Cecil saw “Joel”, he was surprisingly alone on his motorcycle. When Cecil commented on it, the other man flushed bright red and Cecil wondered if he had finally gotten together with Hanzo. If so, then Cecil would definitely be opening a nice bottle of chilled cider for the both of them - or perhaps just give the man a beer since he seemed the simple sort.

(Not that that was a bad thing, really. Cecil was a simple man as well.)

Seeing a puddle on the floor, he looked up and sighed when he saw a few of the ceiling tiles sagging with moisture. 

“What’s wrong?” “Joel” asked and followed his gaze up. “Oh.”

Cecil sighed heavily. “Damn roof’s leaking again,” he said and then waved it off with false cheer though mentally he was calculating costs to have a roof-repair group come out and how long his shop would have to be closed for it. “Now, what’s your poison today?”

For a long moment “Joel” regarded him and pulled out his phone. “I’ll be back,” he called over his shoulder. Cecil heard him say “ _ Hey, Athena? Can you patch me through _ -” before the door closed behind him. 

“Joel” seemed entirely too smug when he came back in but he distracted Cecil by picking his brain about alcohol. There were some obscure alcohols in Cecil’s shop after all, and he had a story to match each bottle. He was just telling “Joel” about how prim Mrs. Arenas, for some terrible reason, had a strong love of cheap absinthe when his front door opened and in walked...well, two people straight out of a joke.

The first man was a giant that had to bend to avoid hitting his head and twist to avoid both of his broad shoulders on the frame. His face was scarred and he was missing one eye and had a long pink scar that sliced through it. He wore his stark white hair like a lion’s mane around his face that was split with a warm grin despite his fearsome appearance.

Beside him walked a man that barely stood as tall as the giant’s knee - or about waist-height for a more normal-sized man like “Joel”. He was also missing an eye, the opposite of the giant’s and Cecil wondered to himself if they were a matching set. The smaller man had a bushy beard tucked into two large tufts and a robotic arm that looked more like the claw of a cooked crab. 

“ _ We’re here to help! _ ” the giant said in English in a booming voice. Cecil swore he felt some of the bottles rattle. 

The smaller man squinted up at Cecil as if daring him to comment. “ _ We were told there was a roof to fix? _ ”

Cecil frowned at the both of them and then turned to “Joel” who looked far too pleased with himself. “ _ It’s not a huge thing, _ ” Cecil tried to demure but the giant threw his head back with a great roar of laughter. 

“ _ Nonsense! _ ” he cried and took two giant steps to tower over Cecil. He held out an enormous hand whose palm was as large as Cecil’s head. (Well...not  _ quite _ but still! How did a human get so  _ large _ ?) “ _ I am Reinhardt Wilhelm. I’ve heard a lot about you! _ ”

Behind him, Cecil saw “Joel” and the smaller man trade exasperated glances. “ _ I recognize you from the posters, _ ” Cecil admitted. “ _ I can’t believe it’s actually you! _ ”

The hero of the old Overwatch threw his head back and laughed but his grip around Cecil’s hand was surprisingly gentle. “ _ I remember the poster! My hair was amazing! _ ”

Cecil turned to the smaller man. “ _ And you are Torbjörn Linholm! _ ” The smaller man looked embarrassed to be recognized and then pleased. 

“ _ Well, _ ” Torbjörn said gruffly. “ _ What are we waiting for? Don’t we have a roof to fix? _ ”

Ten minutes after both men had disappeared up the ladder, Cecil and “Joel” heard screaming. “Oh right,” Cecil said as if he had forgotten.  _ As if he had forgotten. _ “Do you think I should have mentioned the birds?”

“Joel” threw his head back and laughed. Cecil made it up to Torbjörn and Reinhardt by giving them each some beers of their choice. They refused proper payment, much to his distress, but accepted a case of beer instead. 

He never did find out why “Joel” came by, alone on his motorcycle, but he  _ did _ learn of a hilarious anecdote from their last trip to Japan, featuring “Joel” and Hanzo in an  _ onsen _ . 

* * *

It was nearly two weeks - a long time for him not to see Genji, Lena, Hanzo, or “Joel”. One of the brothers or “Joel” (he still rolled his eyes at that) usually visited weekly at the  _ very _ least but none of them had been by. 

“Go away,” he told Dr. Roach, kicking a leg at her. She honked rudely. “Go home - you know better than to be here.” Honking what was probably goosey expletives at him, she waddled away to a patch of grass and hid there for some unlucky passer-by. Which was how he found “Joel” about fifteen minutes later. 

Well, actually Dr. Roach found “Joel” first and chased him until he nearly tore down the door to Cecil’s store. 

“Go away,” he told Dr. Roach again. “I’m getting the broom!” She honked angrily at him and pushed into the store rudely and flapped her big wings at “Joel” threateningly. Grabbing his broom, Cecil squared off against her. “Go and open the door,” he told Joel who seemed a little worse for wear. It took nearly half an hour to shoo the obstinate goose out of the door but he managed at last. 

Dr. Roach pecked at the glass door before waddling away, seeming to mutter to herself about rude liquor store owners. 

“So,” Cecil said, breathing heavily as he leaned on his broom. “What brings you to my shop so early in the morning?” 

Seemingly embarrassed, “Joel” rubbed the back of his head and looked anywhere but Cecil. “I’m on the run,” he admitted. “Honestly I was just passing through and then the goose attacked.”

“Geese are evil,” Cecil told him sagely. He looked McCree over. Gone were his usual attire of a flannel shirt and jeans, replaced by boots with spurs ( _ who does that? _ ), thick leather chaps (again... _ who does that? _ ), a belt that read BAMF, a heavy metal chestplate, a leather glove, and a red kind of cloak with gold geometric designs. “Who let you dress yourself, cowboy? And is  _ this _ why you haven’t asked Hanzo out yet? You’re afraid your cowboy cosplay would scare him off?”

“Joel” blushed and fiddled with his hat. There were a few outlines of decorative gold bullets (some of which were missing) that remained. “Um...I don’t...wanna implicate you.” 

Cecil regarded him for a moment. “What kind of ‘on the run’ are you?” he asked at last. “From the law?”

“No!” “Joel” said immediately. “Um..not this time.” 

Rolling his eyes, Cecil put his broom away and ignored the way that “Joel” sighed in obvious relief. “Come on,” he said. “I  _ was _ going to do some inventory but now I think it would be better to go on a walk, don’t you think?” He locked the front door and led the man out the back door, assuring him that Dr. Roach wouldn’t come around this way. He didn’t mention the sea birds that were still quite angry with him or the other geese in the area but from “Joel”’s cautious glances into the air, he maybe suspected a few things. 

“Joel” cracked without Cecil even saying anything when he poured him a mug of coffee. He listened quietly, interrupting only to ask a few questions to untangle the whole mess of a story. “So,” Jesse McCree, internationally wanted with a ridiculously large bounty on his head, said when he was done, not looking up from his mug of coffee. “That’s the whole of it I guess.” 

“I like how you spoke without prompting,” Cecil said dryly. “Some covert ops agent you are.” Jesse sputtered, eyes wide as he looked up at Cecil. 

“Now wait a hot minute-”

“Still,” Cecil interrupted. “I find myself fond of you and Hanzo as customers and as I suspected the two of you would do, you went and did something  _ stupid _ . Tell me I’m wrong.”

Surprisingly bashful for a hardened killer, bounty hunter, ex-covert operative and ex-gang member, Jesse McCree looked back down at his mug and shook his head. “No sir.”

Cecil snorted and considered the man across the table from him. “These spirit dragons,” he said slowly. “They don’t by chance look like big blue lizards, do they?” Jesse McCree’s head snapped up toward him in shock. “One of them has a little gold beard? Goat ears?” 

He watched as Jesse McCree’s collar wiggled as if something hid beneath it and then the horned head of one of the lizards he had seen the other week poked out. Jesse McCree yelped and nearly destroyed Cecil’s mug when he jumped and tried to grab at it. The creature slipped out of Jesse McCree’s clothes completely and Cecil sighed as both he and the giant lizard watched Jesse McCree elbow his mug off the table. 

“I can…” Jesse McCree swallowed. “I can...um...fix that?”

“Well,” Cecil said with a heavy sigh. “I think I’ve seen enough.” he jabbed a finger at the lizard who pricked its ears toward him. “Remember what I said before? About behaving?” The lizard nodded. “Good. This still applies.” He jabbed a finger at Jesse McCree. “You. Let’s see if we can’t fix this...mmm...dumpster fire. Come on.” 

A few hours later and looking dramatically different, Cecil waved, promising that he would keep McCree’s stupid cowboy stuff safe while he went out and did stupid things. He even got to pet the giant lizard and it felt just as weird as he thought it would. 

Dr. Roach rustled in the bushes behind him and he whirled in time to watch her dart into his shop. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.”

The damned goose honked at him and he heard her knocking over a few of his stands. 

“I wish they took you and served you up for Thanksgiving! Or maybe Christmas,” he told Dr. Roach almost conversationally as he propped open the door and found the nearest broom. “They only thought I was joking.”

Somewhere in the corner of his little liquor shop, he could hear Dr. Roach honk rudely. 

* * *

It was a rainy day that turned some of the less traveled roads – and even some of the well-traveled ones – into soup. This didn’t affect anyone but pedestrians and those poor souls that still drove vehicles with wheels, but Cecil still walked out early in the morning to check and make sure there wasn’t anyone stuck nearby.

The geese loved it of course, as did the various other “stray” birds that adopted him, and all of them bounced or fluttered or waddled along in his wake like he was some sort of cursed Pied Piper of devil-birds.

As if hearing that thought, Perkele nipped his hand with her beak and he swore colorfully at her until she waddled off with a smug honk. Dr. Roach bounced off of his umbrella and flopped into a nearby puddle of mud, splattering him and Perkele who honked rudely.

“I really wish they took you for their festive dinners,” he informed his two troublemaking ladies. “I really do hate you both.” They both twisted their tiny heads on their freakish necks and honked at him as if they understood his words.

He paused at the side of the road, spying one of the nearby busses. Clearly it had refused to travel further through the thick mire and a handful of passengers and their belongings were trapped beneath the boughs of a large tree. The bus was similarly (almost) stuck, unable to turn around on such a narrow road so the driver was in the process of attempting to back up down the road.

Cecil flapped his hands at his feathered entourage and was only a little relieved when they (for the most part) disappeared into the trees lining the road. “ _ Hey! _ ” he yelled in English, recognizing a few tourists in the group as well as a pair of idiots he had somehow grown fond of.

“ _ Do you speak English? _ ” one of the tourists yelled. “ _ We need an umbrella! _ ”

Muttering a prayer for patience under his breath, Cecil inspected the mud in the middle of the road. It didn’t look deep enough to cause a problem for his hover truck but if the rain continued it might. “ _ What you  _ need,” Cecil yelled back. “ _ Is to get your priorities straight. I’ll be right back. _ ” Waving, he walked away.

Ten minutes later, he returned with his truck and found that the tourist that had yelled at him had clearly tried to walk through the mud and found that it was too deep for his tastes. His nice slacks, which had been rolled up just below his knees, were now caked in mud, as was the nice floral-print shirt he wore. The geese honked expletives at them from the bushes as Cecil drove across the large rift.

“Long time no see,” Cecil said to Hanzo, flipping open the window in the back of the cab so he could talk to his passengers. The tourist hauled on the door and banged on the window. “ _ In the back, _ ” he yelled, jerking his thumb toward the bed of the truck.

“Indeed,” Hanzo said, a curl to his lips as he watched the tourist struggle to open the door.

He saw another face in the group, the carpenter who had been away visiting his nan. “Hey Cecil,” he said cheerfully. “I hope your roof’s not leaking too badly.”

“Nope!” Cecil said cheerfully. “I got it fixed a few months back. Is everybody in?”

Jesse McCree, still in his ridiculous costume, leaned over the edge and bodily lifted the unhappy tourist and his bags into the back. The rest, after a brief moment to consider their options, followed suit, loading their soaked luggage into the bed of Cecil’s truck and scrambling inside as well. “Now we are,” he said and knocked the window with his flesh hand. “All good to go.”

The tourist protested the entire way as the rain lightened. Cecil’s hover truck wasn’t the  _ best _ but it did well enough on roads like these and didn’t seem to be too inclined to slip or sink in the mud. In no time he was pulling in to the overhang he had beside the shop and everyone hopped out. With a cheerful wave and an offer to check his roof later, the carpenter took the tourists to the hotel.

“You two look like drowned rats,” he told Hanzo and Jesse McCree. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

After Jesse McCree sheepishly explained to Hanzo how he had told Cecil all about their clandestine activities, Hanzo had sighed and his two spirit dragons had emerged. Cecil loaned them dry clothes and let them hang their wet things in the laundry room where the geese wouldn’t get at them. While they changed he got to pet both spirit dragons which, again, was just as weird as he thought it would be.

Their scales were cool the way he remembered reptiles being and eerily smooth. Both of them seemed very much into the scritches he offered and he soon found himself with both creatures tangled around his legs and arms like long cats.

They were more demanding than the damned geese and that was saying a lot. At least they didn’t really nip, instead nudging his hands with their scaly faces and closing their eyes in bliss as he scratched what was clearly an itchy spot.

When Hanzo and Jesse McCree returned they flew back to the two of them, swimming through the air as if it were water and Cecil moved to make them mugs of hot tea. He watched them gratefully cradle the mugs, gently shooing away the spirit dragons who seemed, much like cats, to want to curl up around something nice and warm as well.

“How is it that I have acquired two internationally-wanted criminals in my kitchen?” he mused to himself. He laughed when they both jumped at a loud  _ thump _ on the roof. “That will be one of the geese,” he said. “Perkele or Dr. Roach – don’t ask,” he added when Hanzo’s brow creased.

Jesse McCree snorted. “They’re  _ mean _ ,” he said to Hanzo, nudging him gently with an elbow. It wasn’t lost on Cecil that they had scooted their chairs closer so that they were pressed together from shoulder to hip to knee.

“If they’re mean, why do you keep them as pets?” Hanzo wondered and Cecil shrugged.

“I ask myself the very same question,” Cecil told him dryly.

Jesse McCree patted Hanzo’s hand. “It’s okay,” he said. “At least they can’t open doors.”

It was a struggle not to laugh. His clever girls had perfect timing and moments later the handle to the front door jiggled. They both turned to look at him in horror.

Cecil shrugged.

* * *

Torbjörn visited Cecil’s store again to check on the roof once the period of heavy storms passed. It seemed that The Place That They Weren’t Allowed To Talk About had similar roof issues and he wanted to check on his fixes to Cecil’s. Once more he waved off payment but accepted a four-pack of beer.

He was excited to learn that Cecil had some Nordic ancestry (somewhere...) but dismayed to learn that it was Finnish, not Swedish. They spent most of the rest of Torbjörn’s visit trading profanities in their separate languages. Mrs. Arenas stopped by and traded German insults which had Torbjörn and Cecil nearly falling out of their seats with laughter as she described such terrible and depraved acts in her quavering old voice.

When she left, Cecil managed to convince Torbjörn that screaming  _ perkele _ to the heavens three times would summon the Devil – much like Bloody Mary. He waited with the door held slightly ajar, watching as the other man did and summoned instead a very ornery goose who swooped down from the roof of a nearby building at him.

Despite his growling voice, Torbjörn’s good eye sparkled with mirth and they laughed together until they couldn’t breathe. Hours after he arrived he left in good humor, waving to Cecil as he drove away having been summoned back to The Place That They Weren’t Allowed To Talk About.

Something about screaming in the ducts and shadows that moved.

Cecil didn’t let himself think too much about it.

* * *

He began seeing more and more of them. 

Hanzo’s trips with Jesse McCree became weekly things. Genji arrived separately. Eventually he was seeing separate people every day. 

Hanzo, Hana Song, and Jesse McCree would stop my on Mondays to bicker with each other in the aisles. On Tuesdays it was Genji, a woman named Angela Ziegler (she liked the spiced wines that Cecil had in stock. He ordered a few chocolate ones just to see the disgusted look on her face because apparently the stereotype that the Swiss were particular about their chocolate was absolutely true), and an omnic monk named Zenyatta. (Not that Cecil wasn't pleased to see a friend of Genji's, but he was certainly very confused by Zenyatta's presence given that he couldn't consume alcohol. But the omnic had a quirky sense of humor and liked to ask Cecil questions so he didn't much mind.) Wednesdays it was a sweet Chinese woman named Mei-Ling Zhou and Lena; on Thursday it was Torbjörn and Reinhardt who didn’t really buy that much liquor but would spend some time with Cecil and chat. 

They insisted on helping out around the store and fixed most of the things that Cecil himself had been putting off on fixing for budgeting purposes. It upset Cecil that they would wave off payment but they did occasionally allow him to purchase some supplies for them and they always relaxed at the end of it with a cold beer. 

Unless the geese or other birds around Cecil’s home attacked. 

His favorite visitors somehow became Hanzo’s dragons. They would cling to the wide head of his sweeping brooms and he imagined that they would giggle as they were dragged along. Cecil enjoyed indulging them and would get his exercise for the week by running up and down the aisles with them trailing their long bodies after him. 

Hanzo would always sigh but there was a smile on his lips.

It was nearly a full year since the first time Hanzo wandered into his little store that Cecil realized that he was actually  _ looking forward _ to their visits. 

And then one day half of them wandered into the store at once, covered in bruises and a few of them not even hiding the fact that they were wearing clothes emblazoned with the Overwatch logo and well-worn tactical gear. He took one look at them and sighed. 

What a bunch of lunatics. 

He ignored the way that his geese fell upon them like a plague and pretended not to hear their startled shrieks while he went to fetch as many ice packs as he could find in the back of his store. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw, I hate you. (No I don't, please send me more cooking videos and tell me more about wine ;__; )
> 
> Special thanks to Lyall_Lupa and [SchweenWinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchweenWinchester/pseuds/SchweenWinchester) for putting up with my shit while I ~~suffered through~~ wrote this. I also recommend watching videos of geese attacking people on YouTube. Much entertainment to be had. 
> 
> A few other things that didn't quite make it to the final cut:  
> -Cecil is the 20th of 21 children. He sometimes jokes when the Overwatch operatives tell him that they're going on a "trip" that he might have family there. More often than not they own a liquor store and he refuses to comment on this.   
> -Yeehaw may have decided to marry Cecil and I'm very much amused/not bothered by this.  
> -Cecil is originally from Argentina and is a polyglot mostly because of all of his siblings. They would practice their language studies with him before they moved away so he picked up on a lot of different languages.   
> -Because he is the 20th of so many siblings, his mother grew desperate for names and began drawing them out of a hat.  
> -He "rescued" Perkele and Dr. Roach and now they follow him everywhere. People have learned to avoid them.   
> -Perkele is called that because that was the only thing she answered to for a while. Dr. Roach used to have a bad habit of finding insects and releasing them into Cecil's house and shop.   
> -The sea birds like to nest in his gutters for some reason. He's baffled by it and tries not to disturb them unless absolutely necessary.   
> -No, he does not "beat" the geese, despite what he says. He just...nudges them. He literally has about ten brooms in his little shop just for this purpose because he doesn't feel like getting hit or pecked or scratched by the demons.
> 
> As always, thank you for all of the comments and kudos. It always makes me smile to see the notices come through and lately I've been in need of smiles. 
> 
> ~~Here's to hoping my car can be fixed.~~
> 
> ~DC


	20. Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fully blame [SchweenWinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchweenWinchester/pseuds/SchweenWinchester) and the McHanzo[Target Practice](https://target-practiceblog.tumblr.com/) Discord for this.
> 
> But thanks Schween and Lyall_Lupa for helping with the...stuff.

**Scrabble**

McCree woke up to the sound of the dragons talking. Cracking an eye open, he found Hanzo staring blankly up at the ceiling. “It ever get better?” he croaked, his voice still thick with sleep. Hanzo wordlessly shook his head.

Groaning he sat up and watched the glowing forms skitter around the bookshelves of the safehouse.

**You woke him up,** Udon scolded and Soba darted to McCree, climbing in his lap like an eager puppy.

McCree yawned and absently ran his fingers through Soba’s golden mane. “What are you two going on about now?”

He didn’t really get an answer and Soba wound around his neck like a faintly-glowing scarf. Udon said, **We were bored.**

Groaning again, McCree levered himself out of bed and shuffled over to the bookshelf. He could hear Hanzo roll over on the bed and hoped that he would be able to get some sleep. Udon drifted in the air after them, darting at Soba who batted back like playful cats.

In the other room, McCree clicked on the light and stood blinking for a moment, his eyes getting used to the sudden bright glow. **You don’t need to turn the lights on for us,** Soba protested. **We can see without them.**

“Yeah,” McCree said with a big yawn. “But _I_ do.”

Soba joined their sibling in the air, darting around McCree’s head. It took some digging around but McCree managed to find the game box which he opened for the dragons. **Is that a treasure chest?** Soba asked. **I had heard about treasure chests. Pirates are always looking for butts.**

**Booty,** Udon corrected.

McCree struggled not to laugh. “Nah, this is just the game chest. Every safehouse has one but it’s not always filled with the same stuff. Figured some of these games might be easier for you than just reading a book.” He gestured to the bookshelves that held paperbound books. Digging into the box he sorted out games that were ruined (it looked like someone had spilled _something_ in the chest and McCree didn’t want to think too much about what it might be), were unplayable for the dragon spirits, and ones that he thought they might enjoy.

He wondered why he thought he’d be surprised that Soba and Udon were greatly entertained by Scrabble. It was difficult for them to play but not impossible and they filled the air with their bickering over which words were legal and how they were to be spelled.

Somehow he had the feeling that half of them were made up.

He bowed out as the dragons thanked him (and immediately returned to bickering) and returned to bed. “They’ll be chattering all night,” Hanzo groaned.

“I tried my best,” McCree mumbled, pressing a kiss to Hanzo’s nose before climbing over him into bed. “At least they’re not knocking things over.”

Hanzo grumbled but settled when McCree wrapped his arms around his waist. **Do you think they are naked?** They heard Soba ask and both stiffened, eyes snapping open. **Would I be interrupting their mating if I ask?**

**Stop it.**

**Are they mating?**

**Stop. You’re going to wake them up again.**

**I’m going to ask anyway.** **McCree? McCree is “y’ain’t” a word? McCree?**

**You are the worst. They could be mating right now! Shame!**

**The worst what? What does that mean? I just want to know. McCree?**

**Let them sleep!**

**What other words am I supposed to make? I want to use this one.**

**Anything else!**

**MCCREE!**

With a disgusted groan, Hanzo pushed McCree out of bed. “Your fault. _You_ deal with it.”

* * *

**Operation:**

Hearing about the games that Udon and Soba had played Ramen wanted to join in.

(To be fair, _everyone_ had heard about those games and when Hanzo and McCree returned from their mission everyone was smirking. Ana had made them alphabet cookies and alphabet soup to add insult to injury.)

It asked Angela one day in Medical and she managed to find an old – _very_ old – game that she explained was a silly thing with a lot of puns. **I like puns!** Ramen declared and ducked its head when she told it to use its inside voice.

Ramen had carefully gripped the tweezers in its maw and after practicing on one of Angela’s pencils, attempted to go for the piece labeled “Butterflies in Stomach”. As it angled its head, it scolded Angela that Lepidopterans did not belong in another’s body, nor did boxes of bread or wrenches or-

Everyone on base heard Ramen’s startled roar when the tweezers set off the buzzer. The game was destroyed, Ramen fell off the table and disappeared in a puff of green smoke, and Angela had the video of a lifetime.

* * *

**Pictionary:**

Lena giggled, riding a special kind of giddy high with Emily visiting the base. She felt sloshed and from the flushed tint to her girlfriend’s cheeks Em felt the same. The two of them stopped often to press each other against the walls and neck at each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

“C’mon,” Lena whispered into Emily’s neck. Why were the residential quarters so far away?

Em giggled, ticklish, and whined when Lena pulled back. “Len.”

With an impish grin, Lena gripped her wrist and tugged her along, barely managing to keep her chronal accelerator in check. She pushed Em against a nearby wall beside an empty office and pressed close, kissing Em and wrapping an arm around her waist while she fumbled for the keypad.

“Len,” Em giggled in a token protest, her own hands sliding up Lena’s shirt until they hit the bands of her accelerator, already on board with whatever Lena had planned.

Lena had the best girlfriend.

“What if someone sees?” Em asked in an exaggerated whisper, one hand sliding down to squeeze Lena’s ass.

She squeaked in surprise, messing up the code. Growling playfully, she wiggled a hand under Em’s shirt. “No one comes here,” she whispered into her girlfriend’s neck. “No one uses this room anymore.”

Em giggled again as Lena managed to get the door open. She twisted them around, walking backwards into the room and pulling Em along by a fist in her shirt and fingers tangled in her belt loops.

“Lens,” Em said quietly, her eyes going wide as she stared over Lena’s shoulder.

Immediately going into battle mode, Lena whirled and found three sets of eyes that reflected in eerie shades of gold and green and blue. Yelping she slapped the wall for the light-

-revealing Soba wrapped around an easel, clinging to the side of a large sheet of bulletin paper with a black dry-erase marker in its mouth. Ramen and Udon were both perched on the table. An egg timer in the shape of a cowboy hat sat innocuously beside them, ticking audibly.

Before Lena could say anything, Soba’s ears flipped forward. **Oh, Lena!**

**Hello, Lena,** Udon said, slitting its eyes like a contented cat.

Lena tried to gesture furiously for them to be quiet. Em gripped her shoulders and shirt. “Lens, what are those?” she whispered, her eyes wide.

All three dragons peered around Lena. **Hello!** Ramen said. **Is that your girlfriend, Lena? Emilio?**

**Emily,** Udon corrected with a sniff. **Her name is Emily.**

**Oh,** Soba said. **I’m sorry, did you need this room? We can find another place if you can help us move the easel.**

Lena gestured frantically for them to be quiet. **I think they were going to try and mate in here,** Udon said. **We should leave.**

**But I liked this game,** Ramen whined as Lena pressed her hands to her burning face.

**We can ask someone else to get us new pieces of paper,** Soba suggested. **I think Ana has some poster paper.**

That seemed to immediately perk Ramen up and the three of them disappeared as if they weren’t there. “Oh!” Em exclaimed. “What happened? Where did they go?” She stepped cautiously past Lena. “Lens? What’s wrong?”

Lena hid her face. Across the base she could hear Udon say, **Lena and her girlfriend Emily were going to mate in the room we were in. We had to leave the egg timer behind – sorry McCree**.

Even though human voices couldn’t travel around the base the way the spirits’ did, she thought she could hear laughter.

* * *

**(Strip) Poker**

**Is that a good hand?** Soba asked.

“Shh,” McCree said out of the corner of his mouth. “Remember, Soba, you need to keep a good poker face.”

**Oh! Yes!** Soba’s little claws pricked through McCree’s shirt as it rearranged itself across his shoulders. Peeking up, he found that they sat like a gargoyle, staring off into the middle distance.

Laughing, McCree scratched at its jaw and it closed its eyes in bliss, leaning in to the caress. Across the table, Udon was perched on Hanzo’s head, its head and neck getting in Hanzo’s way.

“I feel like this is a terrible idea,” Hanzo said dryly. A pile of their clothes were tucked beneath the table and both sat in their boxers and socks. McCree was winning but only slightly, still having his shirt.

McCree laughed again. “Nah,” he assured Hanzo. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

He laughed again at Hanzo’s glare. “You are teaching _three new players_ how to play poker,” he pointed out.

**What hand is it?** Udon asked. **This doesn’t make sense.**

Before McCree could stop it, Soba said, **I** **_think_ ** **it’s a flush, right McCree? They’re in order and all have the same little picture things.**

“Yeah,” McCree told Hanzo who hid his face behind the cards as he laughed. “This is a bad idea.” He dropped his cards on the table.

* * *

**Elefun the Elephant:**

“This is a children’s game,” Genji whispered to Hana.

Angling her camera, Hana fiddled with the controls. “Hush,” she hissed. “This is a charity event.”

Ramen dropped the net, sending hardlight butterflies in a dozen glittering shades fluttering as they escaped back into the air. It had one caught in his mouth. “Um,” Lúcio said nervously. “Can they choke?”

“I have the feeling we are about to find out,” Genji said dryly as Ramen tossed its head back. The poor hardlight butterfly’s wings flapped frantically as it tried to fly. It still beat in the same tempo as the wings of the other butterflies’ but its position in Ramen’s mouth made it appear to be panicked.

“No!” Angela yelled, running after Ramen who, startled, zipped through the air and away. “Come back here! Don’t eat that!”

**WHY?** Ramen thundered, twisting in the air like an otter as it swam. A piece of the butterfly’s wing poked out of the corner of its mouth. It tossed its head back again as if trying to swallow it. **It’s pretty and I want it!**

Sighing, Genji got up and left as Lúcio picked up the discarded butterfly net and used it to try and catch Ramen. The elephant in the middle of the room that controlled the butterflies continued to stare with its empty, plastic eyes.

“I’m done,” Genji declared. “Good luck with that.”

Before Hana could protest, he vaulted out the window. Shrugging, she went back to fiddling with the controls, sitting back to watch Lúcio and Angela, both accomplished people in their fields, chase a _spirit dragon_ with a butterfly in its mouth like an unruly puppy.

Like an unruly puppy _that could fly_.

Sitting back and watching the chat blow up, Hana popped a chip in her mouth.

* * *

**Dungeons & Dragons:**

Hanzo slowly woke up to an empty room in Medical. Looking down at his arm he found the tattoo there matte grey; the same on his leg.

**Up ahead of you is a town,** he could hear Udon saying and he sighed in relief.

“Agent Shimada,” Athena said from the terminal next to him. “Dr. Ziegler left word that as soon as you feel well enough, you are free to go. A recommendation of further care has been sent to your comm.”

Hanzo blinked. “Thank you, Athena.”

Medical was deathly silent. No one came to see him or stop him so he climbed out of bed and took a shower. When he came out, Medical was also silent.

Across the base, he could still hear the dragons speaking. It reminded him of the stories the dragons used to tell him and Genji as children and he couldn’t help but smile. When asked, Athena directed him toward one of the unused common rooms in the basement floors of the base.

Hanzo paused on the other side of the door and listened, wondering what story the dragons were telling.

**-what do you do?** Udon asked.

“I want to stare broodingly off into the distance,” Lena said and Hanzo frowned.

“I would like to lament to myself that I do not deserve things like love or friendship,” Zenyatta said. “All the while I am showing that I do care for others by doing little things that brighten their day.”

There was laughter. “Aww, Zen-zo,” Lena said. “That’s so sweet.”

“Beware of my debilitating sweet tooth,” Zenyatta said to more laughter. “I now would like a cake so I would like to go off into the village and find the nearest bakery. When anyone asks I will say that I have been doing recon work and hope that no one notices the cake crumbs and sugar in my beard.”

“Well _I_ ,” Genji declared dramatically. “Would like to climb a wall for absolutely no reason and sit like a broody little gargoyle on the roof so I can stare down at everyone for they are all beneath me. Like a cat. Like a big, stupid cat.”

**Roll Perception** , Soba said, sounding excited.

**No,** Udon argued. **Athletics. Or Strength. Why would you roll perception to climb a wall?**

Soba made a noise that Hanzo recognized as the one it made when it was frustrated. **What does the book say?**

**Hold on,** Ramen said impatiently. There was a light _tap-tap-tap-tap_ sound as it evidently used its stylus on something. **It’s a Strength check. Roll 1d20.**

There was no audible reaction from Udon but it must have done something that Hanzo couldn’t hear from outside the door because he heard Soba say, **How was** **_I_ ** **supposed to know that?**

**If you are in charge of this, then perhaps you should know,** Udon replied.

**I can always look things up,** Ramen pointed out. It went _tap-tap-tap-tap-tap_ again. He tried not to laugh, imagining Ramen as a woodpecker against a tree and curious, Hanzo pushed open the door.

Everyone froze and turned to stare at him guiltily.

Someone had dragged a lectern from one of the old conference rooms and the three dragons were perched on it, a large binder in front of them. Ramen had its stylus in its mouth and a glowing tablet in front of it, which is what Hanzo assumed made the tapping noises.

McCree sat beside them, looking ridiculous in one of Hanzo’s _gi_ which was folded the wrong way across his chest; his left sleeve was shoved messily into the waistband of his jeans in lieu of properly tying it down.

Next to him was Hana in a bright pink bathrobe in similar disarray with the tie of her robe around her forehead like a headband. It was at least tucked correctly over her chest.

Zenyatta was there as well and was the only one that didn’t look guilty but Hanzo was sure that it was only because he didn’t have a face that could make expressions of guilt. Two pieces of unevenly-cut and jagged construction paper were taped to his face with masking tape. “Greetings,” he said and waved.

Slowly, Hanzo looked around at everyone else. A few others were wearing _gi_ that were clearly from his closet. Angela was there too, explaining why Hanzo hadn’t seen her in Medical, wearing a fake moustache. Both her bangs and her spiky ponytail were covered in gel so that they stood up in jagged points and she wore one of the paper robes from Medical over the rest of her clothes.

Genji had scribbled a moustache, beard, and bushy eyebrows on his faceplate in what Hanzo hoped was washable marker.

Lena wore one of his gold hair ribbons around her neck like a tie. Another _gi_ that was clearly Hanzo’s was shared like a blanket between her and Lena, who sat beside her. Emily also wore a fake moustache and goatee. Pieces of paper plate, cut into the shape of little fans, were held down over her ears with a headband and another of his hair ribbons.

The three dragons turned to Hanzo, their ears swiveling forward.

He walked in and sat down next to McCree. “The correct answer is so: you tell everyone that you hate the town and will go to scout ahead for enemies. When you are far enough away from everyone else, you find the bakery and fill your bag with pastries that you will never share with anyone or tell anyone about. _Then_ you find a tall building to climb and stare broodingly down at the people like a cat. When no one is looking, you eat your pastries and promise yourself that you will work off your binging but know that you won’t.” He turned his head to McCree with a smirk. “Unless it’s in bed.”

McCree slapped the table with both hands. “ _Is that why?_ ” he demanded before he could stop himself. “Not adrenaline. Not I-nearly-died. Because _you’re on a sugar high?_ ”

Folding his hands in front of him, he turned to the dragons who watched the proceedings with interest. “You may continue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The future version has Elefun in the middle still but it acts as a controller for hardlight butterflies that flutter around a defined area, usually a radius of about three feet from the toy. 
> 
> Also, the story the dragons are telling is based on Issumboshi because they weren't sure what else to tell. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay in posting. I got caught up with zine things the the McHanzo Reverse Bang. Hopefully I'll be able to post more often now. 
> 
> ~~Maybe~~.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who leaves comments and kudos! I really appreciate seeing the notifications and reading your thoughts on it. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone that has made it this far. I'm so sorry. XD
> 
> ~DC


	21. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter that makes even less sense than any other chapter here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by watching the Overwatch World Cup. Don’t ask me why or how. 
> 
> Also [this video](https://youtu.be/EEmWvgYxNrI?t=25). 
> 
> Another warning: this chapter makes no sense but there is some cute interaction with the noodles. Like me, Genji had a plan but lost sight of it at some point.

Genji took a deep breath and lit the stick of incense.

“Are you sure of this?” Zenyatta asked from behind him.

Taking another deep breath, Genji nodded. “I am.”

A moment later Ramen appeared before him, knocking over the little shrine that Genji had created. Surprised it turned and its long body and tail knocked more knick-knacks from the shelf.

 **SHIMADA GENJI!** It boomed, tossing its head the way it did when it was distressed. **Oh!** Ramen exclaimed as the small clay jar and the stick of incense was knocked off the makeshift shrine.

Genji scrambled to catch it but succeeded in only slapping it out of the air; it shattered when it hit the ground, sending the lit incense rolling under the altar. Startled, Ramen leaped into the air and hovered there as Genji yanked the altar back and picked up the incense before it could light anything on fire. It continued to hover there, coiling its long body into nervous loops and knots.

“My apologies,” Genji said to it, accepting the new incense cup from one of Zenyatta’s arms and placing it back on the altar. “Great spirit-”

 **Ooh,** Ramen interrupted, dropping back down to perch on the altar. It coiled its long body around itself like a snake until only its head poked out. **It must be important for you to call me that.**

Genji glanced at Zenyatta who seemed to glow with golden light. “Can you hear Ramen?”

 **He cannot hear ramen because noodles do not speak—and** **_I_ ** **am not a noodle.**

Zenyatta glanced down at Ramen and then Genji. “I cannot,” he said, sounding surprised.

Pleased, Genji turned back to face his spirit dragon and took a deep breath. “I seek your wisdom.”

**The last time anyone sought my wisdom I sent Fa Deng to disaster.**

Genji paused, cocking his head to the side. Ramen mirrored him. “Was that a joke?”

**I do not joke.**

Despite the honored spirit’s words, its whiskers were pushed forward and it looked like a smug, spoiled cat. Genji knew better to tell it this, at least right now.

Ramen uncoiled, the front half of its body lifting off of the altar to stretch out toward Genji. **What is wrong, Little Sparrow?** It asked in a gentler voice. Its eyes, though lacking pupils and looking as if carved from jade, softened and it seemed to smile.

Genji was struck suddenly with a sense of déjà vu. How long had it been since he had summoned his dragon this way? Where they did not appear like long cats but halfway between their spirit form and any physical manifestation they chose? Where they spoke only to him through the bond of their soul?

He reached out and Ramen rested its claws in his palm. “I seek your advice.”

**Tell me.**

Genji did and a part of him was annoyed that Ramen started laughing. (The other was disturbed at Ramen’s laughter. It wasn’t new for the honored spirits to laugh, they had been for some time, but the sound of it, like a wooden box full of nails, was quite unnerving.)

“It’s not funny,” he said a little petulantly.

 **But it is,** Ramen said. **I am an ancient spirit, thousands of years old by your count of time, and yet you ask my advice for…this?**

Genji blushed and looked away from those amused, jade-green eyes. “I had thought the dragons offered wisdom without judgment?” he asked a little bitterly.

 **It should be a testament to how much I care for you that I show my judgment,** Ramen replied. He hazarded a glance back at it and found that it seemed to be grinning smugly despite lacking the malleable lips to do so. **Tell me again,** it said. **And I will try to contain my laughter this time.** At his dubious look it told him, **The first time was for the shock of a good story; the second time shall be to analyze the problem. Now tell me, Little Sparrow, what ails you?**

True to its word it didn’t laugh but he heard little sounds that reminded him of snickers and giggles. But it did listen intently despite its obvious amusement, its ears flipped forward.

 **It sounds like you do not quite want my** **_wisdom_ ** **,** Ramen said thoughtfully, bobbing its head. **Tell me, Little Sparrow, what do you truly wish of me?**

“A favor,” Genji said. “I beg-”

Ramen interrupted him with a snort. **Then beg.** For a long moment the two of them stared at each other and then Ramen laughed again. **I am teasing you, Little Sparrow. Of course I shall do as you ask. But the difficulty was not in asking** **_my_ ** **help.** It sounded amused.

Between one moment and the next Ramen disappeared and Genji was back in his body. “Are you well?” Zenyatta asked. When Genji looked at him he looked like a Shambali monk once more and not a many-armed golden god.

The altar was in the same place he had left it, the bowl of incense undamaged, and the stick burned to a nub that still gave off the faint scent of sandalwood.

“Yes,” Genji said faintly. “It’s just…overwhelming sometimes. I haven’t done that in some time.”

Zenyatta hummed. “What was the answer you received?”

Reminded, Genji grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. “Phase 1 is a go.”

* * *

Hana drummed her fingers on the table. “Let me get this straight.”

McCree carefully wasn’t looking at her though he hid it pretty well, slouching over the pot with a mumbled excuse that he couldn’t let the milk scald or the pudding would be ruined. Genji was wearing his mask when he normally wouldn’t, probably so that she wouldn’t see his expression which would no doubt give something away. Only Hanzo looked properly composed, pretending to not be interested in the conversation but she was pretty sure that he wasn’t really involved, just curious.

“You found a ‘mysterious challenger’,” she said, putting the words in sarcastic air quotes. “For me to play against.”

“Yes,” Genji said too eagerly for her to believe that he wasn’t up to something.

She broke eye contact with Genji’s visor when Hanzo slid a bowl of pudding toward her. “Taste test,” he said. “Careful, it’s still hot.”

Genji glared at his brother and she took joy in the way he squirmed while she ate the pudding. “Very good,” Hana told Hanzo. “It’s weird that it’s hot but I’m sure it’ll be very good when it’s cold.”

“Cecil recommended the recipe,” Hanzo told her. “I’ll tell him you like it.”

Hana snorted. “I’ll see him tomorrow,” she reminded him. “I’ll let him know myself.” She turned back to Genji. “And this ‘mysterious challenger’ of yours,” she said. She didn’t gesture to include the air quotes this time but they were audible in her sarcastic tone. “Why do they want to challenge me?”

There was an awkward silence as Hana smugly licked the pudding off her spoon. She thought she could hear McCree snort from the stove but when she looked at him he only gave her a too-innocent look.

“Does…it matter?” Genji asked rather than said. “I thought you didn’t back down from a challenge?”

“And if I accepted every challenge that’s all I would do for the rest of my life,” Hana pointed out. “And I have _a lot_ of people that challenge me because they think they’re better than me because they have a dick.”

Genji flinched. She wondered if once upon a time he may have been one of those people. Genji flashed a helpless look at his brother who returned it with a familiar one she had often seen him give McCree: _you dug your own grave, you can dig yourself out_.

“Think of it as a charity event,” McCree suggested, confirming that he was also in on it. “Or a favor for a friend.”

Hana squinted at them. “Why?” she asked suspiciously. She saw Hanzo roll his eyes and take the pot from McCree, who clearly wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing.

“Why not?” Genji shot back.

“I can think of a lot of reasons,” Hana replied.

Hanzo groaned from the kitchen. “Either do it or not,” he grumbled. “I’m sick of hearing it!”

Rolling her eyes, Hana held out her bowl and Hanzo dumped more pudding in it from the last few bits that didn’t fit into the pie crust. “Fine, I’ll do it,” she said. Genji pumped his fist in the air triumphantly. “But I’m not streaming.”

When Genji groaned, Hanzo snapped the dish towel at his brother, making him shriek. It was a suitable distraction as McCree doubled over laughing and Genji lunged for the stove to grab another. Hana picked up her bowl and escaped while she could.

* * *

Hana tapped her mic. “Hiya!” she said cheerfully. “Can you hear me?”

 **Rasodon:** yes_

Her eyebrows rose. “No mic?”

 **Rasodon:** no_

Hana huffed and looked at Genji, her brows raised. Genji shrugged.

 **Rasodon:** cannot talk. sorry_

“No problem,” Hana said as she began queuing up the game. While she waited for it to load, she looked at Rashodon’s career profile. They were a relatively low level as if they had only recently started playing which was already a red flag but maybe it was an alternate account. She was impressed despite herself for the spread of characters they played, though. They didn’t have a lot of time—again, as if they had just started playing or just started the account—but they had quite a repertoire beneath their belt.

Though she wondered why Rashodon couldn’t talk. Did they not have a mic? Did they have to keep quiet? Could they literally not speak?

She didn’t ask though. It’s not like they’d be talking very much while playing against each other. Not to mention it wasn’t her business anyway.

The game loaded and after a moment of hesitation she chose a tank hero. “You ready?”

 **Rashodon:** yes_

The match was over quickly but mostly because she wasn’t paying attention to the time. She had just barely managed to squeak out a win in the end and she laughed. “That was fun!”

 **Rashodon:** it was_

 **Rashodon:** again?_

“Heck yeah,” Hana said with a laugh. She queued up another game and reached to the side to get one of her sodas while it loaded. Across the base she could hear the noodle dragons chattering amongst themselves.

She frowned as she drank and listened in on the dragons.

 **-move faster,** Ramen was saying.

 **It is a fixed running pace,** Soba complained. **If you want a different speed we need a different character.**

Hana looked at the username and snorted. She smirked at Genji as she put her soda down. “Hey guys, how about we change it up?” she got them out of the queue for the death match and tied them together in a group, pleased that they accepted the invite almost immediately. “I bet we’ll smoke ‘em.”

 **You’re a high level,** Ramen complained. **It’ll be too easy for you.**

 **Rashodon:** level?_

**That is not what I said.**

**I do not type as fast as you do,** Udon huffed.

“I can hear you guys just fine,” Hana assured them.

The dragons were silent. “So much for that,” Genji muttered off to her side as the hero selection screen came up for a match.

“I don’t know what you meant to accomplish,” Hana told him with a huff. “But this is a lot of fun. Do you guys want to be on my stream the next time I stream this game?”

 **Maybe,** Udon hedged, surprising no one.

 **Yes!** Ramen and Soba said more or less in unison.

“You’ll have to show me your setup,” Hana said as the match started. “Are all of you playing the same character?”

The mic crackled and she saw the icon pop up that Rashodon was speaking in their group voice chat. “ _You should see it_ ,” Hanzo said.

“ _It is quite adorable,_ ” Zenyatta added.

 **We are not adorable,** Udon huffed.

Hana laughed. Rashodon spammed the “need healing” button until their team’s healer threatened to never heal them ever again. Over their group voice chat Hana could hear Hanzo and Zenyatta laughing.

“I don’t need this,” Genji said and left.

“What was he wanting to accomplish, anyway?” Hana asked when he was gone.

“ _I’m not sure,_ ” Zenyatta answered.

 **Watch out, there is a sniper around the corner!** Ramen cried. Hana could hear twin growls from Soba and Udon. **We need healing! Please heal us!**

Hana giggled as their healer sent a frowny face over chat and healed the dragons’ character.

 **Shimada Genji said that it was important,** Udon said stiffly and Hana wondered how they were playing.

 **Something about proving you wrong,** Soba added helpfully. **Oh! I almost had it! You stole my kill! Can we push them off the bridge?**

 **They’re on our team,** Udon pointed out.

**I don’t care, they stole my kill! I almost had them!**

There was silence for a moment and in the kill feed above the screen Hana saw that their character was eliminated.

 **We died,** Udon said helpfully.

Hana felt her phone buzz but didn’t look at it until they had won the objective. Hanzo had sent a picture of the three dragons, each at a small console: Udon with a large trackball that it was resting its front paws on, Soba with a large toggle joystick which it was holding in its jaws, its head tilted comically to the side, and Ramen with a pad of large buttons.

Their manes and tails glowed, looking halfway into the glassy forms they used in battle; little arcs of lightning caused lens fares in the picture. “Short-out imminent,” Hanzo sent along with the picture.

“You are so adorable!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it was a hot mess. 
> 
> Why did you read it?
> 
> Feel free to come and yell at me for it at [Classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I'm sorry for subjecting you to this but only a little because it's silly and quite indulgent. 
> 
> ~DC


	22. Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much delayed, my apologies. 
> 
> I got caught up in... _a lot_ of projects. The Strange Oddities zine, Overcooked zine...a bunch of holiday fics and prompt weeks/months and the McHanzo Big Bang....I may have bitten off more than I can chew XD
> 
> But, this chapter was suggested by [SchweenWinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchweenWinchester/pseuds/SchweenWinchester/works) and though it took me quite a while......I had a lot of fun writing it.

“ _ In the aaaaarms of and aangel- _ “

“Get it!” Hana cried. “Get it! Get it!”

Genji leaped over the back of the couch for the remote. He knocked down bottles and cans, sent water and soda and beer and popcorn flying.

“ _ Far awaaaaay- _ ”

“Get it!” Hana continued to yell. “Get it before Reinhardt gets back!”

“Too late,” Ana said dryly from the doorway. Her arms were crossed across her chest and she was looking down the hall with her good eye. “He’s in the fetal position.”

In the hall they could hear Jack yelling, “ _ Man down, man down! _ ”

Genji scrambled, much like some kind of demented cat, for the remote and managed to change the channel. With his legs sticking up in the air and half of his body buried beneath the table, he looked absolutely ridiculous.

“You need to be more careful!” Hana scolded from the kitchen.

From the hallway, they could hear Reinhardt’s plaintive cry, “ _ The puppies! _ ”

“What about the kitties, Reinhardt?” Ana asked.

“ _ Them too! _ ”

Soba watched from McCree’s shoulders and wondered.

* * *

Soba curled up around Cecil’s neck like a giant, glowing, scaly necklace; Udon wiggled in his lap, pleased with the scritches he offered along the dragon’s back and spine.

**We do not want to impose on their date,** Udon had explained though Cecil of course couldn’t hear them.

But Cecil didn’t seem too bothered with their presence (and the lack of Hanzo’s) and let them hang out with him as he closed the shop and then as he made dinner. They got to meet Cecil’s husband who tended to spend most of his time in a quiet cabin in the nearby nature preserve and chattered at him excitedly while Cecil cooked.

They still tangled themselves on and around Cecil as they settled on the couch for the evening.

“I’m going to clean up a bit,” Cecil said, gently easing both dragons off of his body. He scratched the two of them behind their ears, gathered their dinner dishes, and walked into the kitchen.

Cecil’s husband stared down at the dragons who stared back at him. “I suppose this might not be the weirdest friends he’s made,” the man said. “What are you, like long cats?”

**WE ARE NOT CATS,** the dragons boomed but of course Cecil’s husband couldn’t hear them.

(Across town Hanzo and McCree traded glances and raised their hands in unison to order another round of drinks.)

“ _ In the aaaaarms of and aangel- _ “

Soba’s head snapped up to look at the TV while Udon continued to stare with unblinking eyes at Cecil’s husband.

“ _ Far awaaaaay from here. _ ”

Cecil’s husband jumped when Soba jumped into the air, gliding to the coffee table to be closer to the TV. It stood on its hind legs like some kind of strange-looking meerkat, and cocked its head from side to side as it watched the commercial.

“Oh,” Cecil’s husband said and reached for the remote. Udon pounced, batting the remote away from him. Then Udon joined Soba on the coffee table, bobbing its head.

**What is this?**

Soba tossed its head.  **This is so sad!**

From the kitchen they heard Cecil yell, “You better not be watching the kicked-puppy commercial!”

“No,” Cecil’s husband yelled back. “Your friends’ weird cats are.”

“At least mute the thing, you’re going to make me cry!”

Cautiously Cecil’s husband reached for the remote and when the dragons didn’t attack, hit the mute button. The haunting ululations of a singer from the beginning of the century cut off.

“Thank you!”

Cecil’s husband watched the dragons, leaning back on the couch.

**Why do they look so sad?** Soba asked.

**This is distressing,** Udon, shaking its head vigorously. It jumped into Cecil’s husband’s lap and curled up in a tight, distressed ball.

“I know,” Cecil’s husband said, carefully adjusting his hands so that he could cradle the ball of scales and fur. He ran his fingers soothingly through the dragon’s soft mane. “It’s a shame that a commercial from seventy years ago is still playing.”

Cecil snorted, leaning down to kiss his husband’s cheek as he sat beside him on the couch. He picked up Udon’s excess bulk and placed it on his lap so that the dragon was coiled on both of them. “Is  _ that _ the biggest issue?”

“You know what I mean,” his husband said with a humorless laugh. “There have been so many changes in humanity but this one thing remains the same. This commercial never  _ really _ gets old because people are still just as shitty now as they were a century ago. All people seem to care about is  _ buying _ a dog not taking care of it. They want to buy not rescue for a fancy piece of paper that dooms their ‘precious baby’ to a lifetime of health problems from aesthetic breeding and shallow bloodlines.”

Leaning over, Cecil kissed his husband’s cheek. They turned to find that Soba was perched on the TV and seeing that it had their attention, tapped the screen over the name of the charity.

“It’s an animal cruelty shelter,” Cecil’s husband explained. “They’re asking for donations and to spread awareness of a very real issue. Some shelters are so overwhelmed that they in turn start neglecting their charges; some are forced to euthanize far too many animals than they would otherwise to make room for others that needed their help.”

Evidently this was what pushed Soba over the edge because it darted through the air and curled up in a pile of azure scales on Cecil’s lap.

“I doubt that will happen to you,” Cecil told them. “And even if it did, we’re here.”

The dragons hid their faces and coiled themselves into a complicated knot and refused to move for the rest of the night.

* * *

It all started with a bird.

At first people thought it was Ganymede, the bird that had apparently adopted the Bastion unit in the forests of Germany. But Ganymede was yellow; this was a large African grey parrot.

(No one knew why it had been mistaken for Ganymede and no one wanted to own up to the embarrassment of mistaking a  _ big grey parrot _ for the little yellow bird that was always with the Bastion unit.)

The bird was  _ mean _ though, cursing at them in four languages as it dive-bombed them. It bit everyone, even omnics, and it took the combined efforts of Genji and Zenyatta to capture it and put it in a large cage created by Torbjörn to hold the demonic creature.

Angela and Athena scanned the bird and found that it wasn’t microchipped and that no one had reported missing a mean African grey parrot. So they kept it for a while, cautiously feeding and caring for it while it continued to scream and curse at them.

Then it was a cat and then another. But that’s what happened sometimes. Stray animals happened, but these cats were sleek, their fur clean.

When they started to look a little thin, they were of course fed (a bunch of mercenaries they may be but deliberately cruel to the particularly debilitating effect of an animal’s begging eyes they were not). The appearance of more cats after this made sense—one stray seems to beget others.

Then there were more cats.

Then there were dogs.

There was a goat that attacked the Bastion unit and would have gored them if they weren’t made of metal. A kid followed and then two more.

(It became A Thing, a rivalry between the goat and the Bastion unit. As a joke they called the goat Black Phillip after a very old movie from more than a decade ago.)

For a while there was a break in arriving animals and Winston and Athena made cautious inquiries of missing animals and pets. It wasn’t until the rabbits in the duct systems that Torbjörn really put his foot down about it.

But it wasn’t until Hana and Lena made the next run to the liquor store that they could even begin to guess what was going on.

Cecil’s husband was at the counter, looking ready to pull out his hair. “I’m hiding out here,” he explained to them in English. “I’m sick of people coming up to me to ask about the animal-eating monsters in town and if I’d seen them and if they could get me to lead them on a tour. I doubt they’d come to look for me here even though they’d driven me to drinking more than once.”

Leaning across the counter, Cecil patted his husband’s wrist. “It’s okay,” he said.

“What’s this, now?” Lena asked, leaning against the counter. 

Cecil rolled his eyes. “Just a bit of local lore,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Lately there’ve been a lot of missing animals.” 

They immediately turned to look at the two men who didn’t seem to notice their scrutiny. “What happened?” Hana asked as neutrally as she was able to. 

“Nothing to worry about,” Cecil’s husband said. 

At the same time, Cecil said, “Hanzo’s weird cat things should be fine.” 

“They’re not cats,” Hana and Lena interjected at the same time. 

“My,” Cecil’s husband commented with a wry smile. “A lot of unison going on, here.” 

Cecil made a face. “It’s just this weird thing going on around here,” he explained. “A few pets have gone missing. A few old people have said that they saw aliens coming from the sky to kidnap their children and animals, or that they have seen tentacles fall from the sky to pick animals up.” 

“And  _ everyone _ thinks that it came from the forest,” Cecil’s husband finished, rolling his eyes. “They think it’s aliens or a new cryptid and they’re all  _ flocking _ to the forest.” He groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I’m  _ on break _ but now  _ everyone _ is looking for me as a forest guide to find the cryptid.” 

“And is  _ that _ why you cannot help me carry deliveries?” Cecil asked too sweetly and Hana and Lena covered their grins with their hands. “These two lovely ladies have a shipment of beers and wines to carry and I’m not sure that the three of us can handle it alone.” 

His husband rolled his eyes but didn’t protest, and Hana made sure to walk with him as they carried cases of beer to the truck. “I’m curious about the cryptid,” she admitted to him. “Not to go looking for it,” she added hastily when Cecil’s husband frowned. “But...tentacles? Aliens? Stealing animals?” 

The man shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But that’s what’s going on right now.” 

“What kind of animals?” Hana teased. “Cows?”

“A few cats and dogs. Rabbits. I think a few goats had been stolen. Cecil would know the specifics.” 

Cecil did indeed and was happy to share the gossip he had acquired. Everything was adding up and Hana and Lena hurried back to base. 

“They didn’t really report the missing animals because they figured it was no one’s business,” Lena explained. “And the town is small enough that formal reports aren’t always made because everyone already knows about it.”

“They’re probably stored on hard-copy drives,” Hana argued. “They’re harder to hack that way and require less work.” 

Angela frowned. “What is going on? How did you get in here?” 

“It’s the dragons!” Hana exclaimed. “The animals on base? They’re all…”

They both froze, realizing where they were. 

That they had burst into one of the exam rooms where Angela was...well, they didn’t want to think about what she was doing but by McCree’s state of undress and the way that he was bent over the exam table...it was obvious what was happening. 

Lena cleared her throat, suddenly finding the ceiling  _ very _ interesting. “You know what?” she asked, her voice a strangled squeak. “I think it can wait. I think it...I think actually...yeah, it can wait, right? Right, Hana?” 

“Are you... _ is that a prostate exam? _ ” Hana demanded. 

Unamused, McCree propped his head up with his fist. “Yeah,” he said dryly. “An’ I tried to tell the doc that regular stimulation of the prostate is supposed to be healthy or shit but she insisted.” 

“ _ This can wait _ ,” Lena hissed, grabbing Hana’s arm and dragging her out the door. “ _ We can talk about this with other people. _ ” 

Fortunately when they backed out of the door they found Genji walking down the hall, entirely oblivious to the horrors they had just witnessed. “Genji,” Hana cried. “Genji, where is Ramen right now?” 

“Why do I feel like this is a loaded question?”

Lena crossed her arms over her chest. “We just watched McCree get a prostate exam. I’m not in the mood for this.” 

For a long moment Genji stared at them. “Why did you  _ watch? _ ”

“Nevermind!” Hana said, waving her hands in the air emphatically. “ _ Where is Ramen? _ ” 

Genji shrugged. “I assumed they were with Udon and Soba.” 

“Where are  _ they? _ ” 

He shrugged again. “I probably don’t want to know the answer to that.” 

“The animals,” Lena said, exasperated. “The rabbits in the ducts and Black Phillip and that evil parrot! It’s all the dragons!” 

Genji frowned. “I can’t imagine why…” he trailed off. “Bastion’s garden. Now.” 

* * *

Bastion stood with their hand propped on their hip. The three Shimada dragons were in an enormous, tangled coil of blue and green. In their battle forms they were enormous and appeared as if made from spun glass. 

Through their glittering scales, Hana and Lena could see the shapes of the animals they had stolen. Strangely enough, all three dragons were silent. 

As Hana and Lena approached, they found Ana and Genji, hidden by Bastion’s bulk, standing in front of the dragons with their hands on their hips or crossed over their chests. 

“You need to let them go,” Ana told them sternly. 

Udon’s head wobbled. It shook its head emphatically. 

“Udon.” 

All three dragons writhed, their glassy scales scraping and chiming against each other. It showed just how upset they were that none of them commented on the name or the connection with noodles. 

“Udon. Soba. Ramen.” All three of them lifted their heads, for the first time acknowledging their given names without comment. “I’m not mad.” 

“I’m only disappointed,” Genji, Ana, and Hana chorused. Hana, at least, was mocking. 

Soba raised its head and hissed. 

* * *

“—and that,” Lena finished triumphantly with an excited flourish of her finger in the air. “Is what happened.”

Cecil’s husband looked distinctly unamused. “So let me get this straight,” he said very slowly, enunciating each word. “Giant spirit dragons.”

Suddenly embarrassed and aware of what it must sound like, Lena scratched her nose and nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Cecil’s husband stopped in the middle of the trail and pinched the bridge of his nose. They were all very suddenly aware that none of them knew what his name was—he just existed as “Cecil’s husband” and that was that. Hana thought that he might be named “Carlos” but she was probably wrong.

“Giant. Spirit. Dragons. Is that right?”

Lena nodded. “Yes,” Hana answered.

“And—” here he spread his arms out and squinted at them. “—that’s that, eh? Blame it on the giant spirit dragons.”

“They wanted to make sure that the animals were well taken care of,” Lena said weakly. “I think.”

Cecil’s husband sighed. “Sometimes I wonder,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his face. “What am I doing here? Who torments me so?” he sighed again and started walking. “Alright, let’s deal with these dragons.”

“Oh no, everything’s fine!” Hana said quickly, chasing after him. “Nothing to worry about.”

“And the fact that  _ all of the animals are still missing? _ ” Cecil’s husband asked, arching a brow. “And that their owners miss them?”

“It’s nothing so drastic,” Lena told him earnestly. “They’re all well taken care of. Black Phillip still hates Bastion but so long as they stay out of sight everything’s fine!”

Cecil’s husband sighed. “You’re forgetting that the animals are still missing,” he repeated with exaggerated patience. “ _ And that their owners miss them _ .” He sighed.  “Regardless of what may or may not happened, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. These…” he gestured helplessly. “…spirit dragons or whatever, giant colorful pool noodles, are drawing attention that you do not want.”

Lena and Hana stopped in the middle of the trail. “What?”

Cecil’s husband stopped as well and squinted at them. “You are not subtle,” he told them flatly. “I’d known much longer than Cecil has, but you did eventually show yourself and your gear to him. Most of the town knows—you’re literally the worst-kept secret in the area. If your giant noddle cats keep stealing animals, more people will start to talk. The more people start to talk, the more people will ask questions. It’s a snowball effect that  _ will _ result in the whole damn world knowing about your ‘secret club’.”

“Oh,” Lena said weakly.

Hana scratched her nose. “I hadn’t realized…”

“Come on,” Cecil’s husband said. “Let’s deal with the snakes.”

* * *

The dragons were terrifying, at their full size and shining brilliantly in the afternoon sun. They crackled with lightning—obviously for show—as Cecil’s husband approached them in the courtyard of the base.

No one knew what he said to them—save, perhaps Hanzo and Genji—but he leaned in close and whispered something quietly and…they released the animals.

Cats and dogs and rabbits and a  _ really mean parrot _ scattered. Cecil’s husband sighed.

They spent the day wrangling them and loading them into cages on the Watchpoint truck. In short trips Cecil’s husband took them down to town and returned them to their owners. Sulking, the three dragons curled around a nearby tree and watched.

**We were only trying to help,** Soba said in a small voice as Cecil’s husband passed with a squirming puppy in his hands.

Cecil’s husband didn’t respond, but that wasn’t surprising.

**We are sorry,** Soba tried again, shrinking down to a more manageable size and following after Cecil’s husband. The puppy in his arms went crazy at the sight of an enormous glowing dragon and broke free of Cecil’s husband’s hold on him. He ran away and Cecil’s husband sighed.

Finally all of the animals had been wrangled and Cecil’s husband took them into town. He returned with the truck and showed them the giant plastic trash bag in the back.

“You are too irresponsible to have a pet yet,” he scolded the dragons who lay on the ground in shame. Udon curled up into an enormous ball and may or may not have been tangled in its own body. “And you do not go around stealing animals from other people, no matter how good your intentions are. So I got you these.” He opened the bag and pulled out a large stuffed animal. One was a chicken and he lobbed it at Ramen who caught it eagerly in its jaws. Another was a giant plush squid that Soba wrapped itself around like an enormous glowing snake.

He placed Udon’s offering, a stuffed puppy with its tongue sticking out, next to the dragon who did not seem to be able to untangle itself from its knot.

“Make sure you take care of them!” Cecil’s husband told the dragons.

“They’re going to be ripped apart,” Genji said with a heavy sigh.

Cecil’s husband laughed as he began walking back toward the gate and the forest path that led out of the base. “I put catnip in them. Those toys don’t stand a chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The commercial referenced is of course the infamous [Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercial](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6eXfvRcllV8).
> 
> Feel free to come and yell at me on twitter at [Dracoduceus](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus). If that's not your thing, I can also be found on tumblr at [ClassyWastelandBread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/) but I haven't been quite as active there. 
> 
> ~DC


End file.
